


Fan the Flames

by Aini_NuFire



Series: Feathers and Flames [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 10, Alternate Season/Series 11, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Castiel Angst, Dean is a Good Friend, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sam Is a Good Friend, Saving the World, Slow Burn, the Darkness is not Amara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: The Darkness has been unleashed, a primordial force that wants to snuff out every source of light in the world. Will Winchesters and company find a way to stop it, or will this be one apocalypse they can’t avert?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Miyth for talking out ideas for this verse continuation, and 29Pieces for beta reading! ^_^
> 
> Disclaimer: The boys and Cas aren't mine, nor are some of the season 11 canon elements I'll be incorporating into this fic.

 

Dean flipped closed the back cover of the book he'd just finished with a heavy thud. Another resource exhausted. Granted, they'd only been back at the bunker two weeks since unleashing the "Darkness," and the Men of Letters' archives were quite extensive. But in all that time scouring the lore, they hadn't even come across a single friggin' reference.

On the bright side, it didn't appear as though the world was in any imminent danger… Dean had been checking the news, and there were no doomsday sounding reports, no large scale disasters like there'd been when Lucifer had been freed to start the Apocalypse, and nothing about a massive black cloud like what had spewed from the Book of the Damned when they'd destroyed it. Maybe this ancient evil that was purportedly locked inside was actually no big deal.

Right, and his name wasn't Winchester.

With a sigh, Dean reached for the next volume in the stack and opened the first page. Sam, sitting across from him, glanced up to give him a commiserative look. They'd both been burning the midnight oil on this, and the lack of progress was frustrating.

Scuffing footsteps from the hallway had Dean lifting his head as Cas came into the library, dressed in his normal get-up instead of the t-shirt and sweats they had given him. Dean cracked a wide grin. "Morning, sunshine. How you feeling?"

The angel had been recuperating after nearly getting his grace drained, first by the psychopathic Styne family and then by the Book of the Damned itself. He'd spent most of the past two weeks in his room resting, and Dean couldn't deny he'd been worried. Cas hadn't exactly had an easy time concerning his grace over the past year, but Ryn had assured Dean and Sam that he'd be fine, and they just had to take her word for it. She seemed to be able to know with whatever extra senses the Alpha phoenix had. And Cas did look much better now, color in his cheeks and everything. And that was a win Dean was going to take, whatever else may come.

"Better," Cas replied. "My grace has fully recovered." He roved his gaze over the stacks of books spread out on the study table. "Have you found anything on the Darkness?"

Dean shook his head. "Nothin' yet. Hell, not even a mention." He gestured at the rows and rows of bookshelves. "We're sitting on the supernatural mother load and I don't think the Men of Letters ever even heard of this thing. Did find stuff on the Styne family, though. Pretty much what Ryn told us, except it doesn't look like the Men of Letters knew they were Frankensteins."

Seriously, Dean was beginning to lose faith in the whole legacy gambit if it couldn't actually _help_ them.

"There's still a lot to go through," Sam put in diplomatically, like he could read Dean's mind. "And Charlie might find something."

Yeah, Charlie had eventually left to see if she could track down some sources the Men of Letters didn't have. Since the world didn't appear to be falling apart at the seams, Dean was okay letting her set off alone, as long as she checked in regularly.

Cas's expression pinched. "I should have been doing something to help sooner. This thing was released on my account—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Dean interrupted. "You were dying. Me, Sam, and Ryn—and Charlie—we made a choice. Maybe it was a bad one, but it wasn't wrong."

"Besides, Cas," Sam jumped in, "the Book was absorbing your grace. If it had succeeded, if we hadn't stopped it, don't you think the result would have been just as disastrous?"

Cas's mouth turned down further. "I suppose…" he hedged.

Dean leaned his arms across the table and gave Cas a level look. "I stand by what we did. And I don't know what's coming with the Darkness, but we'll deal with it like we always do."

Cas hesitated before finally giving a slow nod of acceptance. He swept his gaze around the room. "Where's Ryn?"

"She went for a walk," Sam supplied.

Cas shifted his weight as though uncertain, and Dean exchanged a glance with his brother. Ryn had been splitting her time between looking after Cas and helping them with research. When she'd emerged from the dormitory wing earlier and said she needed some fresh air, they hadn't thought anything of it, but maybe there was something going on between her and Cas? Not that Dean wanted to touch _that_ with a ten-foot pole.

"You could go look for her," Sam suggested.

Cas fidgeted some more. "I'm sure she'll be back soon."

"Yeah, but you could probably use some fresh air yourself," Sam prompted gently. "You've been cooped up for two weeks."

Not to mention, if he and Ryn did have something going on, Dean would rather they have a lovers' spat outside… Because he was fairly certain that Ryn could light furniture on fire if she got pissed enough. Not that she'd seemed angry this morning. More like she was maybe beating a hasty retreat. Dean furrowed his brow in curiosity.

No, dammit, he did not want to know. He forced his attention back to the latest lore book. A few moments later, Cas headed out through the map room and up the stairs, his footsteps clomping heavily at a sedate pace. Then the bunker door grated open and closed.

"Wonder what that's about," Sam mused.

"Don't wanna know," Dean reiterated out loud.

"Dude, come on. Cas is new to this whole relationship thing. He might need, you know, advice."

"Hey, if he wanted tips for picking up women in bars, I'm his encyclopedia. But maintaining a long-term relationship?" Dean snorted. "Not exactly a strong suit for either one of us."

Sam's brow furrowed with that kicked puppy expression. "Yeah, okay. But at least we have _some_ experience trying to make a committed relationship work."

Dean gave his brother a dry look. "You two want to get together, braid your hair and talk about feelings, go for it."

Sam shot him a bitch-face, which Dean pointedly ignored by reaching for his laptop and lifting the screen as a figurative barrier between them to put the brakes on this conversation. He started clicking through recent news stories, just checking to see if anything on the Darkness had popped up.

Didn't look like it.

He did find a post about a small town in Oklahoma experiencing strange power outages. All the streetlights on a single block would go out, but also the lights in houses. It wasn't a power failure, authorities were saying, as there were no glitches at the plant. Just a bunch of bulbs all randomly burning out at the same time. That definitely sounded weird. But the clincher for Dean was a utility worker being found dead under mysterious circumstances.

"Hey," he spoke up. "I think I found us a case."

Sam blinked at him. "What?"

"I'm thinking ghost," he said, rotating the laptop so Sam could read the screen. "Not sure how it's jumping around a large area. Maybe it's attached to an object that's on the move."

Sam's brows shot upward dubiously. "A ghost? Dean, we've kind of got a lot going on here."

"We've got squat," he countered. "Look, there's no sign of the Darkness, Cas is good. We can't just wait around for a lead to drop in our laps. So in the meantime let's get back to what we do—hunting."

Sam's mouth pinched skeptically, but he nevertheless leaned forward to scan the news article. "Okay, I guess it sounds like a ghost," he said a minute later.

Dean stood up, eager to get out and _do_ something productive. "And it's only six hours away."

Sam shot a finger up and glared at him sternly. "If you say 'milk run,' I will delete all your Japanese porn."

Dean gaped at his brother in horror. "Don't you even joke about that."

Sam closed the laptop and got to his feet as well. "I'm not joking. You jinx this case, and all of it, gone."

Dean grumbled under his breath as he snatched his laptop back and turned to go pack a bag. He supposed he deserved that, what with their last 'milk run' ending up horribly wrong when the Stynes ambushed him. Still, the level of Sam's threat was totally uncalled for. Dean would have to think about changing his password. If he could think of something his little brother wouldn't be able to figure out in five minutes flat.

Crap.

* * *

Castiel took a deep breath of fresh air when he stepped outside, inhaling the woody aromas of cedar, sage, and plumeria that permeated the grove outside the bunker. As an angel, he didn't need to breathe, but there was something invigorating about soaking in the crispness of nature, especially after spending two weeks confined underground. He was a creature of flight, and though he hadn't had his wings for almost two years now, he still craved the wide open sky.

He suspected it was the same for Ryn, who had been devotedly by his side for a great deal of his convalescence. Now that he was well, though, he couldn't help but feel as though she were avoiding him.

Castiel slowly swept his gaze around, scanning the surrounding woodland. He didn't hear footsteps crinkling leaves or see a mantle of vibrant auburn hair moving among the more muted browns and greens. Turning his senses inward, he focused on the subtle ping he'd been feeling since a couple of days ago, when his strength had begun to return more fully. Because with it, Castiel had found himself with an equally growing, albeit soft, distinct awareness of Ryn.

At first he'd thought it was because she'd been sticking close, but now as that gossamer thread tugged his attention upward, his suspicion that there was something more was confirmed. Following his instinct, Castiel moved around the edge of the bunker's mound until he found a place with a less severe incline, and climbed his way to the top.

Sure enough, that's where he found Ryn, sitting on the ground with her knees drawn up and gazing out at the vista of Lebanon's countryside. Past the small grove around the bunker was sprawling flatland, bright green from recent rains and dotted with trees here and there. To the west was farmland, and east was the town. Hazy clouds smeared the pale blue sky with streaks of white.

Ryn didn't turn around to acknowledge Castiel's presence, and he simply came forward to take a seat beside her, drawing his legs up as well so their knees were touching. He indulged the companionable silence for a few minutes, letting himself just enjoy being up here with her and alive.

But if she wasn't going to speak first, then he would have to.

"We need to talk."

Ryn's lips quirked up at the corner ruefully. "Oh?"

Castiel opened his mouth, only to hesitate, unsure what to put into words despite his intentions when he'd first come out here.

Ryn's expression softened. "How are you feeling?"

Yes, that was the opening he wanted, and she'd given it to him even though it seemed she was reticent about it.

"Good," he answered. "Actually, I'm much better than I expected."

He gave her a questioning look. Ryn didn't say anything in response, however, but merely gazed back at him, waiting. Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line. When Monroe Styne had used the Book of the Damned to tap into his grace and siphon it out, Castiel had felt himself crack and splinter, much like what must have happened when Metatron had used his grace in the spell to cast the angels out of Heaven. Castiel hadn't had to live through the fracturing of his grace that time, but what he'd gotten back afterward was only a fragment of it. To have more of it chipped away…he'd expected to be severely weakened…maybe permanently.

And when he'd woken up at the bunker, practically an invalid, it hadn't surprised him. He'd slept for several days, and so didn't remember much. But then he began to regain his strength, and he had hope he could recover enough to still help fight the Darkness now that it had been released.

He did not expect as the days went on to feel rejuvenated and… _strong_. Strong in a way he hadn't possessed since his original grace had first been taken. And upon further inspection, Castiel had detected a foreign sliver of energy woven throughout his grace. He'd been alarmed at first, until he realized that the thread had fused pieces of his tattered essence back together, holding it securely like some kind of grace sutures. And there was only one explanation he'd been able to come up with.

"You gave me part of your spark," he finally blurted.

Ryn sighed. "I suspected you were starting to notice."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I suppose I was afraid you'd think it was invasive, a violation."

Castiel frowned. "Then why did you do it?"

Ryn turned her head to meet his gaze. "Because I don't like it when you're hurting. And I knew I could do something about it." She paused. "Are you upset?"

Castiel thought about it for a moment. When he'd developed the suspicion on his own, he hadn't felt anger or betrayal at the implication, just…confusion. That she had willingly given a part of herself to him so readily.

And now Castiel felt a bond with her that was tangible in a way their connection had broached and hinted at, yet never transversed. It wasn't unlike the bond he'd once had with the Host of Heaven—a constant song deep within his core that filled him with warmth and light.

"No," he finally answered, and reached a hand toward hers, interlocking their fingers in the grass. "I'm grateful."

Ryn leaned over and kissed him. She tasted like cinnamon and smelled like burnt pine, filling Castiel with a heady rush that narrowed the universe to this one spot atop a hill, the heavens stretched out before them and nothing to hold them back after everything they'd been through and survived, together and apart. Not even the looming threat of disaster could wreck this current sensation of flying.

Their lips broke apart, and Ryn rested her forehead against his. "You can and always will have all of me," she whispered.

Castiel breathed in her smokey scent, completely and utterly in awe that this exquisite creature would love him. And he loved her just as much, and wanted to find a way to show her.

But the remembered threat of the Darkness intruded upon the serenity of the moment, and Castiel knew that now was not the time. There always seemed to be an apocalypse of some kind or other demanding his attention. It really was wearying.

But despite Dean's and Sam's words, Castiel still felt partly responsible for the Darkness being set free. And besides, he was no longer fighting just to protect humanity and the Winchesters, but also Ryn and the future he and she might have.

Castiel unfolded his legs and pushed himself up to stand, keeping a hold of Ryn's hand and subsequently pulling her to her feet as well. "We should get back."

She gave him a regretful, but understanding look. "Yep. Lots of books to comb through."

When they re-entered the bunker, however, they found Sam and Dean standing with their go-bags on the map table.

"Finally," Dean groused. "Didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. We found a ghost case, so we're heading over to Oklahoma."

Castiel flicked an incredulous look between them. "You're leaving to hunt a ghost?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Look, we're getting nothing here, and frankly I need a change of scenery and some action. You two okay to cover the research for a bit?"

"Oh. Of course," Castiel replied. He had yet to put in his share anyway.

Dean clapped his hands together once and then scooped up his bag. "Okay. We'll be back in a few days. Which means you two've got the place to yourselves, so if you need a break from the books…" He waggled his eyebrows at them suggestively.

" _Dean_ ," Sam hissed.

Dean continued grinning like a child as he turned to head up the stairs. "Just, uh, remember to use protection," he called over his shoulder. "And I don't mean an angel blade!"

Sam made a choking noise, and Castiel felt his cheeks flush hotly. After Metatron's repertoire of pop culture had been downloaded into his brain, Castiel now knew what 'protection' referred to. And while he was no stranger to the concept of sex, nor inexperienced after his brief time as human, Ryn was currently standing right _there_ , and Castiel found himself suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

"Try not to get kidnapped again," he lobbed as a parting shot, briefly surprising himself.

Dean paused at the top of the balcony to throw him a stunned look, while Sam took a turn smirking smugly.

"Touché," Dean said appreciatively.

Castiel probably shouldn't have felt so satisfied at being praised for a verbal jab, but it was often Dean's weapon of choice, and it felt rather good to be able to 'give as good as he gets,' as one would say.

Sam cleared his throat and waved goodbye. "Let us know if you find anything on the Darkness."

Castiel gave him a nod. "We will."

He watched them depart through the door attached to the garage, and then turned cautiously toward Ryn, prepared to apologize for Dean's behavior. But the twinkle in her eye suggested she was just as amused as the eldest Winchester had been.

"Come on," she said. "These books won't read themselves."

Castiel frowned. Of course not.

He followed her into the study area where the Winchesters had left their pile of books they had yet to read. It was too bad Metatron's virtual library hadn't included any ancient lore, Castiel thought with a sigh as he took a seat and opened one.


	2. Chapter 2

"Okay, thanks, Charlie," Sam said, hanging up just as Dean pulled the Impala up to the curb outside the sheriff's station for Eureka, Oklahoma. "Charlie exhausted the monastery she was looking at," he reported. "But she said there was a museum that just got a recent shipment of some ancient scrolls, so she's headed there to check it out."

Dean put the car in park and turned off the engine. "Doesn't sound very promising."

"Gotta look everywhere, right?" Sam replied. He knew his brother was frustrated with their lack of progress, which wasn't unlike when they'd been desperately trying to find a way to remove the Mark of Cain. They'd eventually solved that; they'd solve this too. And in the meantime, Dean had been right: they had cases to investigate.

They exited the car and headed into the sheriff's office, which was pretty much a single room with two desks, one with a name placard for a deputy, the other for the sheriff. An older woman with sun-weathered skin and sand-colored hair tucked up in a bun was sorting through a filing cabinet, but stopped to look up at their entrance.

"Afternoon," Dean greeted. "Agents Stark and Banner, FBI." He held up his fake creds, as did Sam. "We're here about the death of Mickey Jones."

Sheriff Naples, as her name tag read, arched a dubious brow. "About Mickey? Why?"

"We understand you've been having power outages recently," Sam said, sidestepping her question.

The sheriff folded her arms across her chest. "Well, yeah. But I wouldn't call them power outages. More like every damn lightbulb on a street decided to burn out at the same time."

"And Mickey was out repairing them when he died, correct?" Sam asked.

She narrowed her gaze shrewdly. "Yeah. But there wasn't any sign of foul play. Doc Lane couldn't even find a definitive cause of death. Maybe Mickey just suffered a heart attack or something."

"That didn't show up on an autopsy?" Dean countered.

Sheriff Naples scrutinized them for a beat longer before her expression smoothed in realization. "You boys are here looking for terrorists, aren't ya?"

Sam raised his brows incredulously, then frowned. "Uh, we're not jumping to any conclusions just yet."

"Lights being sabotaged? A few more days of this and I would've started looking at the local kids with vandalism rap sheets, but if the FBI is here…"

"Mind if we take a look at the body?" Dean spoke up, cutting off that line of speculation. For now.

"Sure," the sheriff replied, still eyeing them conspiratorially. She gestured for them to follow as she moved past them, and Sam shot his brother a look over Naples's head. Dean just gave a subtle head shake.

She led them across the street where the funeral home happened to be. The victim's body was laid out on a slab in the prep room, as the small town didn't really have an official morgue.

Sheriff Naples went to the head of the table and drew the covering back, folding it down and exposing only the torso. "Like I said, no obvious signs of trauma. He didn't fall off his ladder. Not even a scratch."

Sam hummed his acknowledgement, and moved closer to examine the body. Sure enough, there weren't any wounds that he could see. It was possible that defensive bruises might show up after a few days, delayed by blood flow stopping upon expiration. But bruises didn't kill.

"You have the coroner's report?" he asked.

"Yeah, just a sec." Sheriff Naples went over to the metal desk and opened one of the drawers. "Here." Her phone started ringing, and she handed Sam the file before excusing herself to take the call outside.

Dean took the opportunity to quickly pull out his EMF reader and wave it over the body. It didn't give off a signal. Sam flipped through the medical report, which wasn't much. The 'coroner' was actually the town doctor, not an official M.E. But things like heart attack, stroke, and brain aneurysm were easy enough to detect, and none of those had caused thirty-five year old Mickey Jones to suddenly drop dead.

Still, if it wasn't a ghost, was there even a case here?

Sam flipped the file closed. "So…"

Dean was staring at the EMF reader in something like disappointment. "Maybe it's been too long. We should go take readings of where the power outages were."

"Yeah, except they weren't power outages. You heard the sheriff, maybe it is teen vandalism."

Dean canted his head dryly. "Really?"

Sam sighed. Dean had really been hoping for an actual case, something to do where they could score a win and feel like they were still doing good out in the world, never mind unleashing the _Darkness_ on it. So Sam could indulge his brother a bit.

The door opened as the sheriff stuck her head back in. "Got a call that the generator at the dam failed. There's also a body."

Dean angled away from the sheriff enough to shoot Sam a smug 'I-told-you-so' look.

Sam's jaw ticked indignantly. Okay, one weird death could be excused; two was quickly approaching a possible pattern.

"Looks like these terrorists are amping up their plans," Sheriff Naples continued.

Sam furrowed his brows as he and Dean moved to follow her back outside. "How serious is the dam failing?"

She cocked her head as though giving it a second thought. "Well, here, not so serious. The river will rise, but the town won't be in danger of flooding. Don't these terrorist types like to do test runs before a big attack, though?" She marched to her SUV and yanked the driver's door open. "You can follow me."

Sam and Dean hurried to the Impala and climbed in, the sheriff apparently eager to get out to the crime scene. And while Sam strongly doubted her terrorist theory, if it meant she kept them involved in the investigation, then they could play along for now.

The small dam was a couple of miles outside of town. Sam shifted in the passenger seat to get a look at the spillway as they drove up. It didn't seem all that affected by the reported power failure. Probably what it meant was that the release mechanism was stuck in its current position, which was letting a moderate but steady surplus stream out. Losing power wasn't the same as losing containment.

A man in a work polo and hard hat was standing just outside the door, apparently waiting for the sheriff. "Nancy," he greeted soberly, flicking a curious look at Sam and Dean.

"Rob," Sheriff Naples nodded. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Keith radioed in that the place had lost power. He was trying to get it back, and then- then he just started screaming."

Sam exchanged a look with Dean. Now this was sounding more and more like their kind of thing.

"Mind showing us?" Dean asked.

Rob looked to the sheriff questioningly.

"They're the feds," she supplied. "We might be looking at a whole big can of worms outside minor streetlight outages."

Sam's jaw tightened. He'd prefer if the sheriff didn't go spreading that theory around, but at least she didn't seem ready to elaborate with a civilian. Just freak him the hell out if the wide-eyed look on his face was anything to go by.

They followed the dam supervisor inside, around some bends and turns among the intricate ducts and pipes, and finally to where a body was sprawled out on the floor, the deputy already standing guard over him. The worker still had his hard hat on, and there were no signs of a struggle. His eyes were frozen open in horror, though.

"Any sign of a weapon?" Sheriff Naples asked the deputy.

"Uh, no. Doesn't look like he was attacked. I mean, there's no blood."

"Maybe the terrorists are working like ninjas, using poison to kill. Quick jab to the neck and boom!" She rammed her fist in the air in imitation of stabbing someone with a syringe.

" _Terrorists_?" the dam supervisor sputtered.

Sam held up a hand to calm everyone down. "We're not sure what we're dealing with here. And there were no needle marks on Mickey Jones."

"We should look again," Naples declared.

Sam tried not to roll his eyes. He flicked a surreptitious glance over his shoulder as Dean inched closer to the body, and shifted so as to block his brother from everyone's sight as much as he could. When he heard the faint click and whir of the EMF reader, Sam raised his voice louder,

"Anyone got a personal grudge against the victims? Maybe something that happened in a bar fight? Marital disputes? Have there been any other deaths in town in the past year?"

Sheriff Naples was staring at him dubiously. "No, nothing like that."

Dean stepped into their circle, giving Sam a subtle negative with his eyes. Great, still no EMF. But if it wasn't a ghost, what was it? Sam didn't smell any sulfur, either on the first victim or here.

"What about poison gas?" the dam supervisor spoke up, earning startled looks from all of them.

"Come again?" Dean said.

"I spotted some black fog in the woods when I came up here, but I got distracted by finding Keith…well." He gestured helplessly at his coworker. "But that's gotta be toxic, right? Maybe Keith was exposed. And Mickey. No one saw what happened to him."

Black fog? …oh, Sam was getting a bad feeling now.

"Show us," he said.

The dam supervisor led them through a side door that took them out onto the causeway above the dam itself. Rob had to shout over the roaring water as he pointed to a patch of woods a couple of miles out. Sam's stomach lurched as he caught sight of a low-hanging black mass curling down among the trees. It didn't look very big from this distance, maybe covering the span and girth of a semi-truck.

What were the odds…?

Sam shot his brother a tense look, and Dean swallowed hard.

"Anyone else report seeing that?" Sam asked loudly, competing with the spillway.

Sheriff Naples was frowning. "Not that I heard. Is this part of the terrorists' plot?"

The dam supervisor's eyes widened. "Should we be evacuating the town?"

Sam was really close to exploding at the sheriff, especially now that he knew there were no terrorists here, but something potentially way more dangerous. "You know what, we'll contact some colleagues at the National Weather Service about this. In the meantime, let us know when the coroner finishes his report on the latest victim." He hastily gave the sheriff his card, and then he and Dean were pushing their way back down the causeway and inside.

Sam cast one last look over the body as they passed it, trying to imagine whether this black fog could kill, and how. It seemed too much of a coincidence, the murders and the mysterious mist, with no evidence of a ghost or demon being involved.

They climbed into the Impala and Dean immediately started the engine. "So, what are the odds?" he said, voicing Sam's earlier thought.

"I don't know, but it kinda looked like what came out of the Book of the Damned."

Dean turned onto the road to head back, except when he came by the first backroad, he veered onto it—heading toward where they'd seen the fog gathered. Sam knew they'd need to take a closer look, try to figure out what they were dealing with. But that didn't mean he wasn't apprehensive about it.

Dean kept ducking his head to gaze out the side window, searching for the fog, but it didn't seem to have come all the way up to the road. He finally pulled over onto a stretch of dirt. "I think it was around here somewhere."

Sam swallowed hard, and climbed out after his brother. They exchanged a wary look, and then started making their way into the woods. Turned out they didn't even have to go that far.

Sam pulled up short and tapped Dean's shoulder roughly, pointing with his other hand toward the cloud of black fog swirling lazily several yards ahead.

"Okay, then," Dean said after a minute. "Um, how exactly are we supposed to fight friggin' _fog_?"

Good question. Sam wasn't entirely sure what they were looking at, either. If this was the Darkness, was it just…evil weather? It seemed kind of sedate right now. Like a giant, nebulous caterpillar or something. Was it even sentient?

As they watched, Sam noticed one end of the mist begin to churn more vigorously than the rest. It spilled out from the main body of the cloud, billowing puffs cascading over the ground as it headed straight toward a metal shed Sam hadn't seen initially. With the power lines anchored in and around it, he guessed it was a transformer.

The black fog rolled forward, crashing against the shed like a wave that splashed up and over, swallowing the small building whole. Sparks started flying, and there was an electric buzz that crackled and fizzed before falling silent with a final pop. The woods fell eerily silent as the fog continued to burble over the transformer, almost like it was…chowing down. And as it did, the static cloud trailing out behind it started getting bigger, swelling to the point where it covered several more feet of ground, at least on the side Sam and Dean were standing at. Maybe all the way around, for all they knew.

Sam took a nervous step backward. "Um, let's go."

"Yeah," Dean quickly agreed, and they made a hasty retreat back to the Impala.

Neither of them said anything as they drove back to town. What was there to say? They'd probably found the Darkness—but they still didn't know _what_ it was. Or how to deal with it.

When Dean pulled into town, they found people milling about outside in clusters and gesturing at the buildings. Sam narrowed his gaze, and realized none of the lights were on inside anywhere. Guess that transformer had been important.

"So, first streetlight bulbs," Dean said slowly. "Then the power at the dam. Now the town's whole power grid."

Sam nodded along. Oh boy. "Think it's time we called for backup?"

Dean parked the car, then pulled out his cell. "Yeah." He punched Cas's number, followed by the speaker button.

"Hello, Dean," the angel answered after the first ring. "Have you finished your case?"

"Uh, nope, not even close," he replied. "Actually, me and Sam think we've found the Darkness."

There was a beat of silence on the other end. "What?"

"We haven't found any evidence of a ghost," Sam put in. "No EMF, no sulfur to suggest demon, either. But there's this black fog in the woods, and we just saw it basically eat a transformer. Town's out of power."

"Are you sure it wasn't a demon?" Cas asked, and Sam could just imagine the angel furrowing his brow in confusion back at the bunker.

"It's too big to be a demon, and when it took out the transformer, it grew."

"What would the Darkness be doing eating electricity, anyway?" Dean interjected.

There was another round of silence on Cas's end.

"Well," he finally said thoughtfully. "Darkness is the opposite of light. I suppose it makes sense for it to attack sources of light energy."

Sam grimaced. "So you still haven't found anything on it?"

Cas sighed heavily. "I'm afraid not."

"Okay, so what the hell are we supposed to do here?" Dean asked, frustration starting to make him snippy. "It's _fog_."

Muffled words sounded in the background, followed by Cas saying, "Yes, that might work."

"What might?" Sam prompted.

"We might be able to trap it in another magical container," he answered. "How big is it?"

Sam exchanged an uncertain look with Dean. "Uh, right now, maybe the size of a house?"

"Ryn and I will find something from the Men of Letters' storage that should work, and then we'll come meet you. In the meantime, I suggest you avoid a confrontation with it. And try to prevent it from consuming any more electricity."

"Oh, so don't confront it, but if it comes near a generator, you want us to what, beat it with a stick?" Dean retorted. But Cas had already hung up. Dean scowled at the phone before dropping it on the dash. "Okay, so now we have to convince a bunch of annoyed townspeople _not_ to use their backup generators. That's gonna go over well."

Sam grimaced. Yeah. "Well, the sheriff's already sold on the terrorist angle. All we have to do is convince her they've potentially been sabotaged, and let her give the order to everyone to keep them turned off."

Dean grumbled under his breath. "Yeah. And I guess we can insist that we're the only two with the proper training to check them all. Take our time. But it's gonna take Cas six hours minimum to get here. That's a long time to stall."

Sam's shoulders sagged slightly under the daunting task. On the bright side, the transformer had to be the last big power source in the area, so even if the Darkness got a hold of a few backup generators, it couldn't get _that_ much bigger…right?

He pushed his door open. "We'd better get started."


	3. Chapter 3

Ryn ran her fingers over the smooth, polished wood of the Russian nesting doll sitting in her lap. She and Castiel hadn't had much time to search the storage rooms in the Men of Letters' bunker for a magical artifact of the same caliber as the Book of the Damned that might be strong enough to contain an ancient, unknown evil. This object, at least, Ryn was familiar with. And it had been used to entrap victims before.

"So you knew the witch who created that?" Castiel asked, flicking her a sidelong glance from the driver's seat.

"She lived in the same village as I did for a time," Ryn replied. "Mostly I avoided her. She didn't know what I was, but I didn't want to chance her figuring it out."

Witches weren't the offspring of Eve, and so didn't harbor the same hatred toward phoenixes as others of monster kind did, but Izolda was just as likely to sell Ryn out to any of them for a profit. She was a vindictive woman, and had created this cursed nesting doll to trap lovers who had scorned her. Five men from the village had gone missing by the time Ryn had decided to relocate to somewhere quieter. Just in time, too, because it wasn't long after that the Men of Letters had come after Izolda, though Ryn hadn't known that at the time. She'd been surprised to find the nesting doll in one of the bunker's artifact rooms, and had looked up the corresponding file which detailed the Men of Letters' seizure of the object and 'neutralizing' of the 'public menace.'

The scholars had then studied the nesting doll and catalogued its function, so Ryn felt pretty confident about using it now. The beauty of its structure was that, theoretically, its capacity was unlimited, as it would just create more and more layers to the doll as was needed. Granted, if sucking up the Darkness ended up giving them a totem pole size nesting doll, that'd be a challenge to then deal with, but as long as it worked, they'd figure it out.

They were just outside of the town Sam and Dean were at when Castiel abruptly took his foot off the gas and let the Continental gradually coast onto a bridge. Ryn looked up from the doll and stiffened. Directly ahead was a mass of black fog, completely blocking the road and spreading out into the surrounding woods on either side. It _was_ the size of a house, or a couple of trailers from an RV park.

Castiel pressed the brake and brought the car to a stop. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, simply staring uncertainly at the languid mist. Should they…attempt to drive through it? Visibility would be zero, and it was difficult to tell how spread out it was on the other side. Plus, considering its nature and the fact that it apparently ate electricity, was touching it dangerous?

"I suppose we'll have to attempt trapping it here on our own," Castiel finally said, turning the engine off.

"Yeah," Ryn murmured.

Clutching the nesting doll, she pushed her door open and exited the car, coming around to meet Castiel at the front. She twisted the top half of the doll off and passed him that piece.

"Um, should we get closer?" she asked.

Castiel's mouth thinned into a tight line, but he nodded. They began to cautiously approach the other end of the bridge, slowly veering apart in order to take up a position on each side of the road and thereby create a larger vacuum space for the Darkness to get sucked into. Standing directly across from each other, they each raised their piece of the doll, and Ryn opened her mouth to say the trigger spell, when the black fog suddenly began to churn.

Her spine went rigid as part of the mist billowed out from the main mass, slithering out onto the bridge. Unlike the rest of the body, this part of the brume writhed and roiled like a mini storm cloud.

The amorphous entity let out a spitting hiss. " _You, light_ ," it sibilated.

Ryn and Castiel exchanged an uncertain look. This was the first indication they'd gotten that the Darkness had sentience.

"Excuse me?" Castiel replied hesitantly.

A coil of mist jerked, almost as though snapping its gaze to him. " _I recognize your shine._ " It folded over itself and burbled. " _Small you are, but the same_."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "The same as what? What are you?"

It sucked in a sharp hiss. " _The same as those stars_ He _created to wage war against me. I was the beginning._ " The Darkness crackled, raising the hairs on Ryn's arms. " _But He tried to destroy me, Him and his lights._ "

The brume billowed up several feet, towering over them. " _I will snuff them all out._ "

The coil of fog shot upward and then came arcing down, straight toward Castiel. Ryn shouted the activation spell for the nesting doll, and the rims on both ends lit up with an orange glow. The Darkness banked sideways abruptly. An ear-splitting caterwaul rent the air as the space between Ryn and Castiel began to bend and warp, and the bottom part of the Darkness started twirling around and around as it was swept into the forming vortex.

The doll began shaking and was almost ripped from Ryn's hands, but she planted her feet firmly apart and fought to hold her ground against the increasing magnetism between the two pieces. Across the bridge, Castiel's coat was flapping around him as he struggled to hold his piece steady as well.

The black fog from the road was being slurped into the doll, but the core of the Darkness continued to jerk and thrash against the pull, shrieking in rage and tantrum. Ryn's feet skidded a few inches, and she almost tripped stumbling to regain her balance. The wind whipped and roared around them, plugging her ears and obscuring her vision as her hair slapped across her face. But the Darkness had almost been completely sucked in…

With a seething bellow, the Darkness suddenly jerked around and dive-bombed directly for the center of the vortex. The air exploded with a whomp and concussive force that shot outward, slamming into both Ryn and Castiel and throwing them backwards as both ends of the doll shattered in an instant.

Ryn hit the railing and bounced off it, pain lancing up her spine as she fell to the ground. She fought to blink the black smudges from her vision, only to realize that what she was seeing was a massive storm cloud raging right in front of her. The Darkness gathered itself into a churning knot of fumes and rose into the air. Ryn pushed herself up onto her elbows. Castiel was on the other side of the bridge, looking equally dazed. The Darkness spiraled up into a cyclone, and then turned to plummet back down toward him.

Ryn thrust her arms out, summoning her fire and shooting a stream of flames just over Castiel's head. The Darkness banked sharply to avoid it, twisting back up into the air with an infuriated hiss. Ryn barely managed to get to her feet before a column of smoke came lashing toward her.

She clenched her hands into fists, coating them in a burst of fire, and swung at the attacking appendage. Her knuckles barely grazed it, but the Darkness torqued away with a screech. Ryn threw another flaming punch at a second amorphous arm, eliciting another spitting hiss. But even if the Darkness didn't like her fire—even if she was somehow managing to hurt it—she couldn't keep this up indefinitely, and they no longer had a magical object to try trapping it in. Maybe she could make it flee if she ignited a large enough blaze…

The roiling mesh in the air suddenly exploded outward like an umbrella that came cascading down around Ryn. She spun in an arc to drive some of it back, but it splashed over her in a deluge, and in her next breath, it was forcing its way down her mouth and nose. Ryn staggered under the shock, doubling over with a gasp that only swallowed more of the noxious smoke. The flames in her hands snuffed out, and she dropped to her knees choking. Her stomach heaved against the vile invasion, trying to expel it, but the smoke wormed deeper, all the way down to her core.

Ryn's blood quickened with panic and fire, but the cloying Darkness wrapped itself around her inner spark and squeezed. Every single muscle in her body seized. Glacial sludge was slowly crawling through her veins, and the blackness of oblivion was creeping along the edges of consciousness.

Just when she was about to be swallowed whole by the nothingness, an eruption of brilliant blue shattered the dense fog and speared through Ryn's head like a lightning bolt. The Darkness screeched and flinched back, retreating in a gushing stream that tore from her throat and left her choking on searing oxygen instead. Ryn collapsed onto her side, muscles jerking with micro seizures. She couldn't breathe.

A blinding nova was looming over her, filling her vision with painfully electric blue light. The Darkness was a tangled mesh of flailing arms as it cowered away. Ryn blinked, the celestial halo fading down to a simmer. Castiel's coat billowed in the gales as he stood between her and the Darkness, one palm outstretched and glowing with a golden aura, his eyes blazing like sapphire suns.

The Darkness wailed and recoiled. Castiel took a measured step forward, then another, the radiance of his grace driving the Darkness away from Ryn. It howled in outrage and rose into the air like a giant, nebulous worm, then slammed down onto the bridge. The impact vibrated through the planks, jolting Ryn into a series of gasps. With another bellow, the Darkness reared up and lashed out again, beating against the protective rail.

Castiel's light winked out, and he turned to run back to her. Ryn could barely feel her legs as he hauled her upright, and she stumbled against him. She thought she heard his raised voice shout something, but it was drowned out by the raging storm thrashing above their heads. Castiel tugged her toward the car.

The Darkness shot a stream of fog over their heads that came down and scooped under the Continental, lifting it completely off the ground. Castiel grabbed Ryn around the waist and flung them both to the side as the car flew past them and rammed against the railing, making the entire structure judder. Metal groaned, and something snapped, followed by a crashing sound down below.

Castiel was pulling at her arms, but Ryn could barely move. The shrieking of the storm was going to rupture her skull.

The bridge shook again, and the scraping of metal was the only warning they had as the Darkness slammed into the overturned Continental again, propelling it toward them. Castiel threw himself over Ryn, but she still felt the impact as the car crashed into his back. The rail behind her splintered, and then they were falling.

Ryn's lungs were already empty when they hit the rapids.

* * *

Dean pretended to fiddle with some of the knobs on the generator he was 'inspecting,' mindful of the audience gathered several feet away on the sidewalk. His gigantor brother was standing guard to ensure the townspeople gave Dean space, but they both could tell the residents were growing impatient. They wanted their power grid up and running before sunset in a couple hours.

"Looks okay," Dean called over his shoulder, reluctantly. This was the last generator, and he and Sam had run out of stalling tactics. They'd barely been able to convince people that _all_ of the generators had to be checked before even one could be turned on. And Dean had taken his dear sweet time doing that, too, hoping Cas and Ryn would arrive before they'd finished so they could set up some kind of trap for when the power got switched back on and the Darkness came looking for another snack.

But there was no sign of the two lovebirds. Dean made his way over to Sam, and they stepped away as the Sheriff declared the All-clear and people eagerly began heading toward the various generators.

"Got any other ideas?" Dean asked under his breath as lights flicked on in the buildings.

A muscle in Sam's jaw ticked, and he pulled out his phone, hitting a button and putting it up to his ear. He waited several moments. "Cas's phone is going straight to voicemail," he said, finally hanging up.

"Great," Dean muttered, turning in a half circle to survey the surrounding woods for tendrils of black fog creeping in. They actually didn't even know if it was still in the area, or if the lack of power would have made it move on, seeking out another town lit up like a Christmas tree in July.

Dean shook his head in frustration. If the electricity did draw the Darkness back to Eureka, there was nothing they could realistically do against it without whatever container Cas and Ryn had found to trap it in.

"Let's head out," he decided.

Sam's eyebrows shot upward incredulously. "What?"

"We're just twiddling our thumbs here, Sam. And Cas and Ryn should have been here by now. Maybe they had car trouble or something with that piece of crap Cas drives, and we'll meet them on the road." Anything was better than staying here, waiting.

Sam's mouth pinched, but he didn't seem to have a better plan, and so with a shrug, turned to follow Dean back to the Impala.

Dean didn't ride the gas as hard as he usually did, mostly because he was half distracted scanning the woods for signs of the Darkness. As much as he didn't want a confrontation when they were woefully unprepared, it still unnerved him to wonder where the hell it had gone. And though they hadn't been able to confirm definitively if the two deaths were directly caused by the Darkness, it was too much of a coincidence, and that was on him and Sam. They'd unleashed it, and now they had to stuff it back into a box before it killed any more people.

The Impala rounded a curve in the road that wound straight onto a bridge crossing the river, and Dean slammed on the brakes, heart leaping into his throat at the sight laid out before them—Cas's Continental smashed against one side of the bridge, upside down.

Dean threw the Impala in park and scrambled out of the car a split second behind Sam, both of them running out onto the bridge. Dean practically skidded onto his hands and knees as he dropped down to look inside the Continental. It was empty.

He jumped back to his feet and spun around. "Cas! Ryn!" Where the hell were they? And what happened?

Dean swept his gaze over the bridge, trying to sort through the pieces of evidence scattered around him. There were no skid marks in the road, no signs of another vehicle. It took a lot of force to flip a car, especially that behemoth that Cas liked to drive. Dean's eyes narrowed on some shards in the middle of the road. He'd assumed it was taillight glass at first, but upon a second look, realized it was wood chips, but of a different color and finish than the planks of the bridge.

Sam was crouching down next to them and picked up a fragment. As he angled it a certain way, a glimmer of a rune etched in the wood shimmered in refracted sunlight. He lifted wide eyes to Dean. "You don't think…"

Dean's chest constricted with dread, because, yes, that was exactly what he was thinking. If Cas and Ryn had come upon the Darkness on their way to town, of course they would have stopped to try and trap it. Only it looked like things had gone horribly wrong.

Dean shifted his gaze around, and went rigid as he looked out over the river. "Sam."

Sam stood swiftly, gaze tracking Dean's. He sucked in a sharp breath. Half a mile down the river, that sinuous black fog was crawling over the water and through the trees, churning and fizzling with way more activity than they'd seen back at the transformer. Not only that…but it looked much larger, too.

Dean's gut twisted. They needed to find Cas and Ryn, now. He wouldn't let himself think about them being…gone, consumed by the Darkness, because those two guys who'd died left bodies behind, and there were no bodies on this bridge. Which meant Cas and Ryn had to still be alive. Just…not here. But if they'd tried to escape, wouldn't they have tried to make their way to Eureka, and the Winchesters would have passed them on the road? Or were they making their way back the other direction? No, Cas would try to get to Sam and Dean, try to warn them.

Sam had pulled out his phone and was frowning at it. "Cas's GPS isn't giving off a signal."

Okay, there could be any number of reasons for that…Cas didn't have a signal this far out…except Sam did, so Cas probably would, too. The phone could have been damaged in a fight…a fight that looked as though it had ended very badly for Cas and Ryn. Dammit…

Dean reached into his jacket for his phone. "I'm calling Crowley."

"What?" Sam sputtered. "Why?"

"Hello, that!" Dean gestured sharply at the roiling fog. "The Darkness is getting bigger, and I'm pretty sure our best bet at trapping it is in pieces at your feet."

"Yeah, but _Crowley_? Dean, he shouldn't be our first go-to when things go bad."

"Our first go-to's are _missing_. And he helped us with Cain, and the First Blade."

"After manipulating things so you'd turn into a demon!"

Dean rolled his eyes. Crowley hadn't made Dean take the Mark, and Metatron was the one who'd killed him, thereby turning him into a demon. Crowley had just…taken advantage of an opportunity. And Sam just didn't understand…Dean's time with Crowley as a demon had, well, cemented something. Dean wasn't actually sure what. But the fact of the matter was that Crowley had helped them out plenty of times even before that. And they needed some of those big guns now, or they'd have no shot at dealing with the Darkness, or of finding Cas and Ryn.

"We're out of our league, Sam," Dean said as he hit the call button, and shit, wasn't that saying something, given their resumes.

Sam shook his head unhappily, but didn't argue further. Both of their gazes drifted back out to the heavy cloud as Dean listened to the phone ring and desperately hoped that Cas and Ryn were okay.


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley meandered down the halls of his Stygian palace. He thought his peace offering to his mother had gone over rather well, and after giving Rowena ample time to torture Olivette, former leader of the Grand Coven, Crowley thought he would poke his head in to see what kind of mood the scorned witch was in.

He was surprised when he opened the door to the chamber and did not see the blond-haired Olivette in chains anywhere. Rowena, however, was leaning over a glass terrarium…empty save for a little hamster running on a hamster wheel.

Rowena chuckled gleefully and tapped the glass. "You're- ooh, you're trucking."

"Is that her?" Crowley asked, coming closer to get a better look. The hamster was wearing a red-studded collar.

Rowena sighed happily as she straightened. "Poetic justice, if you ask me. For hundreds of years those hags made me grovel, every attempt to please them futile." She leaned toward the glass again, voice rising with a playful lilt. "High time someone else ran in circles, eh?"

"Nice touch," Crowley admitted almost begrudgingly. "Something I might have thought of myself."

"You see," Rowena said, reaching up to touch his chin with a smug smile. "We're not so very different."

Exactly, which was why Crowley wasn't buying this motherly persona.

"What is it you want?"

Rowena let out an exaggerated sigh. "Well, Fergus, since you asked…these friends of yours—the Winchesters," she enunciated dramatically. "I hear they are, oh, what do you call it, um, Men of Letters?"

Crowley held back his own sigh. "Possibly."

"I see. Well, about that—"

"Listen," he interrupted quietly. "We've been through this. My relationship with the Winchesters is my business. I'll handle them. I'm not killing them."

It irked him to no end that he was constantly questioned about it. Yes, the Winchesters were hunters, were the champions for good—most of the time. But a kingdom needed allies, and they were the best of the best to have in one's corner. Or at the very least not on the opposite side. It had nothing to do with weakness or sentiment.

"All right, deary. Of course," Rowena replied readily, perhaps too readily, and reached over to pat his shoulder in a patronizing manner. "Whatever you say."

Crowley's phone rang.

Rowena arched a delicate brow. "Speak of the little devils."

Crowley could have rolled his eyes at the assumption. Except that the Winchesters were usually the only ones who used this number. Most of his demon minions delivered reports in person, unless there was an emergency, and there hadn't been one of those since Abaddon was weeding out his followers.

Crowley glanced at the caller ID and almost sighed. His mother gave him a simpering moue as she caught sight of 'Not Moose' as well.

Crowley slid the answer key. "Squirrel. Haven't heard from you in a while. Not since Cain was confirmed dead. Good job with that, by the way."

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Dean snipped in response.

"I gave you the ruddy First Blade," he hissed into the phone, turning away from his mother, who was making no effort whatsoever to appear as though she wasn't trying to eavesdrop. "And we all know how that story ends."

"I don't have the Mark anymore."

Crowley's brows rose sharply. Well, that was news, and certainly not the unwelcome kind. "Then what do you want?"

"Ever heard of the Darkness?"

"The rock band? One of my more lucrative deals. So what?"

"Wh- no, the Darkness as in some ancient evil that was trapped inside the Book of the Damned."

Crowley paused, eyes narrowing. "Was?" he repeated in a low tone.

"It got released when we destroyed the Book."

Crowley closed his eyes for a brief moment. Of all the… "You destroyed the Book of the Damned," he muttered. "Let me guess, one of you Winchesters was in mortal peril, and so you decided to start another bloody Apocalypse!" he shrilled by the end of that sentence.

"Hey," Dean snapped. "There was more to it than that. The Book was taking on a life of its own. Hell, the Darkness might have broken free by itself anyway. Look, what do you know about it?"

Crowley lifted his gaze to the ceiling in exasperation. It was times like these he almost forgot why he kept these morons around. "Not much. Just rumors. Hell, it's more like a ghost story for newly-minted demons, since no one's ever laid eyes on the thing."

There was a muffled rumble on the other end of the line. "Yeah, well," Dean said soberly, "at the moment it's a mass of black fog covering half a mile of forest in Oklahoma."

"Not interested," Crowley said abruptly.

"What? This is big, Crowley," Dean growled. "Like, potentially destroy the world, big. And that won't be good for business."

Crowley rolled his eyes, and was about to tell the Winchesters to clean up their own sodding messes, when his mother cleared her throat.

"Um, did you say the Book of the Damned was destroyed?"

Crowley lowered his phone to his chest and angled a dry look at her. Of course _that_ would pique her interest. "Do you know what was supposedly trapped inside it?" he reluctantly asked.

"Ach, only rumors like you," Rowena replied carefully. "Something so ancient that it didn't even have a name, just 'the Darkness'. The Book was a powerful source of magic, though. Evil magic." She adopted a feigned shudder. "I can only imagine the havoc it would create, loosed upon the world."

Crowley snorted. As if she wouldn't relish that. Still, perhaps this was going to cause problems for him and his domain. "Is it a threat to Hell?"

Rowena shrugged one shoulder. "I can't be sure…but I'd be leery."

Crowley tried to hold back a sigh. Figured. He lifted the phone to his ear again, and rolled his eyes at Dean's impatient voice yelling,

"Crowley? Are you even listening?"

"Yes, yes," he said. "End of the world, I heard you. Where shall I meet you?"

"We're outside Eureka, Oklahoma," Dean said gruffly. "On the bridge for highway 15."

"Fine, be there in a jiff." He hung up and slipped his phone back in his pocket, casting a look at his mother and the hamster. "Well, enjoy your…spinning."

"Fergus, wait," Rowena called, hurrying after him.

He turned to arch a pointed brow at her. "What?"

"I think you'll benefit from having a witch at your side in this situation."

Crowley let out a soft snort. "Even if it means working with the Winchesters?"

Rowena dipped her head deferentially. "I can put my feelings aside. I am a professional, after all."

Crowley narrowed his gaze shrewdly, trying to figure out what her game was. Would she use the circumstances to try striking at the Winchesters? Or something else?

"Can this Darkness be harnessed for one's personal use?" he asked.

Rowena's brows rose sharply in surprise, but she quickly schooled her expression. "Maybe."

Crowley hummed in thought. "If Hell had an ally like that, I wouldn't need the Winchesters."

Rowena's lips parted, and then curved into a minatory smile. "Aye."

Crowley straightened his shoulders. "Well, then, let's go see what we're dealing with."

Clamping a hand on his mother's shoulder, he whisked them both away through the void.

* * *

Castiel slipped on a river rock and went down in the shallow water with a splash, dropping Ryn in the process. She lolled face down in the stagnant current, and Castiel grabbed frantically at her arms to haul her upright. She was completely lax as he dragged her from the river, her lithe frame heavy from being waterlogged. Castiel's shoes barely had any traction on the slick bank, and he stumbled several more times before finally managing to extract them both fully from the river. Then Castiel collapsed to his knees, lurching forward to prevent Ryn's head from smacking the ground as he laid her on the grass.

Her lips were blue and her skin alabaster pale. Castiel held a hand out over her mouth. She wasn't breathing. His heart seized with panic. He'd tried to hold onto her after they'd plunged into the river, but the current had been strong and had kept them under for several long moments. Castiel supposed he'd been more concerned with not getting swept away instead of getting oxygen, but Ryn should have revived herself easily from something as simple as drowning.

"Ryn." Castiel shook her shoulders, but got no reaction. He quickly checked her over for a grievous wound he might have missed—perhaps she'd struck a rock when they were being tossed about. But there was no blood or signs of broken bones, nothing to explain her condition.

Desperate, Castiel instinctively reached out two fingers to her forehead and called upon his grace. He was shocked when it flared in response and healing energy actually flowed into Ryn. He shouldn't have been able to heal her, but nothing impeded his grace as it filled her lungs with oxygen and banished the chill in her limbs. Color seeped back into her cheeks, and she jolted awake with a gasp.

"Ryn." Castiel yanked her up into his arms, too relieved to give much thought to the _how_ and only to the fact that he'd almost lost her. They were both soaked, and she was still shaking. Castiel tightened his grip, feeling her fingers clumsily grasping at his coat in return. She let out a shuddering breath.

Castiel drew back and cupped her face. "Are you hurt?" He'd been terrified when the Darkness had enveloped her back on the bridge, and though he'd managed to beat it back, Castiel couldn't think of another reason for Ryn's current condition.

She blinked dazedly, a glazed look lingering in her pupils. "I…I don't know."

He frowned. Who knew what kind of foul touch that ancient evil possessed when it attacked her. Castiel berated himself for not reaching her fast enough. He looked around. They needed to get out of here, but it seemed as though the river had carried them a ways downstream, and he didn't know if there were any roads nearby. They'd have to make their way back to the bridge, somehow contact Sam and Dean.

Castiel dug in his pocket for his phone; even if the water had destroyed it, he could try to use his grace to repair the circuitry. Except his pocket was coming up empty. Castiel patted his coat down, then turned with a disheartened gaze toward the river. The current must have swept his phone away.

"Cas," Ryn whispered fearfully, and he whipped his head back toward her. Her eyes were wide and looking at something over his shoulder and upstream. Castiel twisted around, and stiffened at the sight of black fog weaving through the trees on the opposite shore as it followed the river, darting in and out over the water's surface…as though searching for something. For them.

Castiel scrambled to his feet and gripped Ryn's hands, hauling her up as well. She stumbled, and he slung one of her arms over his shoulder as he pulled her away from the river and deeper into the woods. He had no idea if they were headed toward a road or civilization, only that they needed to get as far away from the Darkness as possible.

Their pace was staggered, as Ryn seemed barely able to keep her feet. Castiel's stomach clenched with worry, but he was afraid to slow down or stop until they found shelter or a place to hide. Behind them in the distance, he could hear the crackle and whipping of furious wind.

Ryn tripped, and only Castiel's grip kept her from hitting the ground.

"We have to keep moving," he urged. If only his wings worked.

Ryn was turning pale again, but she gritted her teeth and took another stumbling step forward. Castiel chanced a look over his shoulder, eyes widening at the blanket of pitch fog rising higher into the sky. It was still behind them, and didn't seem to be heading their way specifically, just…growing. Castiel tried to increase their pace.

He wasn't sure how far they'd gone before they stumbled into a clearing and found a small barn. There was a dirt road that wound away from it and into the woods again, but it was smooth and almost free of tracks, as though it hadn't been used in a long time. So too, the barn looked old and rickety, likely vacant. There wasn't even a lock on the door.

Ryn was sagging against him, so Castiel turned toward the structure, hoping it would hide them well enough if the Darkness passed by. He kicked the door open easily, the aged wood groaning as it swung inward. Castiel hobbled his way inside, quickly scanning the barn that was empty save for two stalls, a pile of hay, and a beat-up tractor whose wheels were cocooned to the ground with cobwebs.

Castiel half-carried Ryn over to the hay and gently helped ease her down, then went back to the door to close it. He paused, craning his head up at the sky where wisps of fog were teasing the tree tops. It was still far enough away, but also too close for comfort.

Castiel shut the barn door and latched it from the inside. He hurried back to Ryn, who was slumping against the pile of hay despite her best efforts to remain sitting up.

"Ryn," he said worriedly as he crouched down beside her and gripped her arm to hold her steady.

"I'm sorry," she gasped.

Castiel frowned. "For what?"

She squeezed her eyes shut as though dizzy, and shook her head. "I chose wrong with the nesting doll."

"No," Castiel said firmly. "It was a good idea."

Her eyes opened to slits to shoot him a pointed look. "Obviously not since it failed."

"You couldn't know it wouldn't work," he argued. "Neither of us could. And we didn't know what _would_ have been successful, so it was a better shot than nothing."

But their failure did mean that they had absolutely nothing with which to fight the Darkness. Castiel wondered what Sam and Dean would do when he and Ryn didn't meet them in town. He could only hope that with the Darkness out in the woods looking for them, the Winchesters might make it back to the bunker without being assailed by the entity. But they would be worried, especially if they took the highway across the bridge and saw Castiel's car.

"Do you think you can make it back to the road?" he asked Ryn. If they followed the road out from the barn, they should come across the highway eventually and thereby skirt around the Darkness. Maybe they'd even be fortunate enough to run into the Winchesters.

But luck had never been a benefactor of Castiel's, and as he watched Ryn's labored breathing, a knot of dread twisted his stomach.

She bit back a distressed sound and shook her head. "Cas…something's wrong. I can't feel…" She tried to sit up, only to wince and fall back against the hay.

His pulse stuttered. "What?"

Ryn lifted a shaky hand to press over her breastbone, then raised eyes swimming with fear to his. "I'm so cold."

Castiel's heart dropped into his stomach as the meaning behind her words hit him. Their clothes were still damp from the river, but their hurried flight through the woods in the warm temperature had dried them some. He covered her hand with his, and reached out with his grace. The spark of warmth he expected to sing in response, the one that he'd slowly become accustomed to hearing ever since Ryn had shared her flame with him, was silent.

He pushed his grace further, deeper, trying to search it out. Ryn closed her eyes as healing energy once again restored her color and eased the lines of pain in her jaw, while Castiel felt as though he'd just been plunged into that icy river again. He could heal her because the phoenix's signature that normally prevented it was no longer a barrier.

Ryn's fire was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam leaned against the Impala, hands stuffed in his pockets as he alternated between watching his brother pace, and the black fog curling sinisterly out over the river downstream. It had billowed up like ash from a volcano, and was definitely bigger than the last time they'd seen it. Sam felt kind of exposed out on the bridge like this, but so far the Darkness didn't seem to be paying them any attention. Nor was it heading back to town, now that the generators had all been started up.

That worried him, too, though, because where on earth were Cas and Ryn?

It wasn't two minutes since Dean had hung up with Crowley that the King of Hell appeared in the middle of the road…along with a petite red-head that made Sam sputter in disbelief.

"What the hell?"

"Winchesters," the witch said with false cheer. "Pleasure seeing you two lads again."

"What the hell, Crowley?" Dean exclaimed, echoing Sam.

"Yes," the demon sighed. "You've all met before."

"Yeah, when she was killing prostitutes _and_ demons," Sam bit out. The sight of Rowena stirred up memories of that poor girl's screams as she was unable to fight whatever curse the witch had cast on her, turning her into some kind of rabid attack animal.

"Would've thought that'd put her on your bad side," Dean added accusingly.

"Yes, well, sometimes having a witch around can be useful," Crowley replied blandly.

"A very _powerful_ witch," Rowena corrected. "Don't be modest now, dear. I'm not ashamed to brag that my boy is the King of Hell."

It took Sam's brain a second too long to put those pieces together, as it did Dean if the slack-jawed look on his face was anything to go by.

"Wait, your what?" Sam stammered.

"Crowley is your son?" Dean blurted.

Said demon lifted his eyes to the sky. "Unfortunately. Let's focus on important matters, shall we?" Crowley canted his head to look past Dean, and took a step toward the railing. "Well, when you boys make a muck of things, you go all out, don't you?"

Sam was still reeling about Rowena being Crowley's _mother_ , and though he wanted nothing more than to gank the witch, they did have bigger issues at the moment.

Rowena gave him and Dean a simpering moue as she moved past them to join her son. She let out an audible breath of astonishment. "My, it certainly looks intimidating, doesn't it?"

"We were gonna try trapping it in a cursed container," Dean told them. "But it looks like it attacked Cas and- well, he's missing now."

He exchanged a brief look with Sam; yeah, they didn't need to mention Ryn at this point, as that was a long story and Crowley didn't need to know about it.

The demon glanced at the flipped Continental. "I see. And the cursed object?"

"Gone," Sam put in. As far as he and Dean knew. There were pieces of something that could have been a magical container on the bridge, and they'd checked Cas's car for any other artifacts, but had come up empty.

Crowley hummed thoughtfully as he returned his studious attention to the distant cloud. "Is it too large to fit into a cursed object?" he asked Rowena.

She pursed her lips in thought. "Depends on the object. If it's strong enough, then yes, that thing there can be condensed and contained."

"Hm. I might have something. Be right back." Crowley vanished, leaving the Winchesters alone with Rowena.

Sam's jaw tightened as the witch eyed them almost pruriently. This had to be an even worse idea than teaming up with Crowley—and Sam hated that they didn't have much of a choice.

"So," Dean said, breaking the tense silence. "Crowley's mother. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Rowena's eyes flashed darkly, but she lifted her chin and forced an almost smug air. "It certainly does bring a mother a bit of pride, finding out her son is the _King_ of Hell."

Sam rolled his eyes. This was just…too much.

Crowley returned then, thankfully, with a large iron crate the size of a coffin at his feet. "This should be strong enough to hold something as ancient and powerful as the Darkness," he said, giving the case a light tap with his shoe. "It's made from the same material as the Cage."

Sam's eyebrows shot upward. "Wait, _the_ Cage?"

Crowley smirked. "Yes, that Cage. If it can hold Lucifer, it can hold anything."

"How did you even get that?" Dean asked.

"I had my people study the Cage and replicate its material," Crowley replied, then turned toward Rowena somewhat pointedly. "You never know when you might need a place to stick something nasty in."

Rowena hummed and gave him a saccharine smile in return.

Sam exchanged an awkward glance with Dean. Oookay…

"So how do we do this?" Dean said impatiently.

Rowena canted her head in consideration. "I suppose we'll have to get its attention somehow."

"Well, it's been eating electricity," Sam put in. But they weren't exactly near any power transformers. He looked at the crashed Continental and then the Impala. "Think the charge in a car's engine would be enough?" Maybe that was why the Darkness had attacked Cas and Ryn.

"Whoa, whoa, Baby is not bait."

Sam shot his brother a scowl. "Dude, priorities? And it's not like the bait is _supposed_ to get eaten."

"I'm sorry, did you see Jurassic Park?" Dean retorted.

"What?"

"How about I just say hello," Rowena interjected. She stepped up toward the edge of the railing and spread her arms. Static prickled on the air, raising the ends of her red hair. Downstream, the fog began to twist and reverse its current.

Sam shifted his weight nervously as the mass turned and suddenly came billowing toward them. He and Dean stumbled backward when it whooshed up in front of the bridge in a crackling, nebulous cloud. The top fizzled with thin slivers of gray.

" _Witch_ ," it hissed.

Sam's eyes widened. Crap, this thing _wasn't_ a mindless blob of smoke?

Rowena cleared her throat. "Yes, hello there. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

" _What do you want?_ " the Darkness snapped. Its head—or what Sam assumed was its head—jerked harshly with the question.

"Just a moment of your time," Rowena continued coquettishly. "Big fan, by the way."

Sam swallowed hard. Get on with it already.

The Darkness churned in apparent agitation. " _I don't have time for ants,_ " it burbled, craning its head around as though to look back downriver. " _I have to find the angel._ "

Sam's heart leaped into his throat, and he exchanged an alarmed look with Dean. The Darkness was after Cas? But that had to mean he was still alive and out there somewhere…

"Perhaps I could be of assistance," Rowena said, steepling her fingers. The Darkness bent lower, almost to her eye level.

"Crowley," Dean growled under his breath.

Sam shot the demon a demanding glare, and Crowley finally stepped toward the iron container and flipped the lid open. The interior glowed ocher, and the Darkness reeled back with a shriek. Crowley held the lid up as the bottom part of the fog began to be sucked in.

" _No!_ " it screeched, and tried to veer away, but more and more of the smoke was swirling into the box, whipping up the wind around them. Sam threw an arm up to shield his eyes, but his hair kept getting blown over them. The Darkness wailed again. " _No! I won't go back!_ "

Sam held his breath; it was working.

Rowena suddenly whirled around to face them, and flung her arms out with a shout. " _Abi_!"

An invisible force punched Sam in the chest and knocked him off his feet. He flew through the air, crashing into the side of the Impala. Another thud preceded Dean landing in a heap next to him. Sam tried to push himself up as Rowena slammed the lid of the container closed, cutting off the roaring wind. The Darkness fell like vapor to the ground where its fizzing head rolled and writhed while the rest of it poured over the edge of the bridge like a waterfall.

Sam's heart seized, and he scrambled to his feet, Dean right behind him.

" _Manate_!" Rowena shouted.

Sam lurched as his legs suddenly felt as though they were enmeshed in a quagmire. He couldn't move. A glance at Dean showed him struggling as well, but his feet were firmly planted on the ground, and so were Crowley's where he'd just gotten up from also being thrown.

"Mother," Crowley seethed. "What are you doing?"

Rowena sneered at him. "You are a pathetic, spineless king. Always running at the beck and call of the Winchesters." She lifted her chin. "I am ashamed to call you my son."

Crowley's cheeks puffed as he strained against the magical hold. "This is impossible. You're not powerful enough."

"To what? Control the legs of a bored king?" Rowena turned to the Darkness. "But you, Your Greatness, are one worthy to rule. Earth, Hell. I offer you my services." She gave a demure half curtsy.

Sam exchanged a panicked look with Dean.

The Darkness simmered warily, its form almost deflated now, maybe wounded from almost getting sucked into Crowley's Cage box. Dammit, they'd been so close!

" _I accept_ ," it finally sibilated.

Rowena's lips split into a wide grin. She uttered another word in Latin and clapped her hands above her head. There was a crack of thunder and flash of light. Sam threw his arm up over his eyes, and in the next instant, the jello encasing his legs vanished. He staggered, suddenly free. When he managed to blink the spots from his vision, both Rowena and the Darkness were completely gone.

Sam whirled toward Crowley. "What the hell?" he yelled.

Crowley was gazing in stupefaction at the empty spot Rowena and the Darkness had been only a moment before. "Well," he finally said with an unaffected tone. "That could have gone better."

"Better?" Dean snapped. "It couldn't have gone worse!"

A muscle in Crowley's jaw ticked. "I'll deal with it." He started toward the iron crate.

"No," Sam said, stepping into his path. "First you help us find Cas."

Crowley shot him a dubious look. "Excuse me?"

"The Darkness said it was looking for an angel, which means he's out there somewhere, and you can search faster than us." Especially since the sun was starting to go down.

"And why should I care about finding your wingman?" Crowley rejoined.

"Because you brought Rowena and she screwed us over," Dean put in sharply. "So we're gonna need Cas before we go after the Darkness again." He took a menacing step forward and lowered his voice an octave. "And if you don't, I've got a bullet with a devil's trap and your name on it."

Crowley angled an indifferent look at him. "So nice to see you without the Mark," he said blithely, and then vanished.

Dean sputtered, and then shouted curses to the empty air. Sam turned to gaze out at the woods as twilight seeped across the sky. His stomach clenched. At this point, they could only hope that Crowley would follow through. And that Cas and Ryn would be okay when they finally found them.

* * *

Ryn felt a wave of warmth wash through her veins, and she jolted awake just as Castiel removed two fingers from her forehead. He rocked back on his haunches, face pinched with worry.

"Ryn?"

She tried to sit up a little straighter against the pile of hay she was laying on, but ended up simply slumping against it. Castiel's infusion of healing drew her back from the brink and banished some of the bone-deep chill steadily turning her to ice from the inside out. But she knew with sinking certainty that it was only temporary. Her fire was gone, and it was only a matter of time before she faded completely.

Just not yet.

"I'm here," she breathed.

The lines around Castiel's eyes tightened. "What can I do?"

She let out a pained grunt. "Nothing much, I'm afraid." Her clothes were fully dry now, but she was still kissed with cold.

His jaw clenched and he looked away. "This is all my fault."

Ryn frowned. "How do you figure that? I'm the one who destroyed the Book of the Damned and released the Darkness. I think that qualifies as making this whole mess my fault."

"You only did that because of me. And you're here now because of me. Everything since the moment I came back into your life has put you in danger."

"Don't you dare do that," Ryn snapped, finding the energy to push herself up onto her elbows. "My life has never been _safe_ , whether you were around or not."

She'd been hunted since the dawn of her existence, by monster kind, human hunters, and other beings for various reasons. This wasn't even the first time she'd taken shelter in a shack in the middle of a forest.

Castiel shook his head. "But I know that all you've ever wanted was to live in peace, away from violence and war. Away from this. You asked me to take you home, and I didn't. I should have—"

Ryn abruptly reached a frozen hand up to cup his cheek, cutting him off. "You're right; I am here because of you. Because you make me want to be better than that person who hides away from the world. _You_ inspire me, Castiel. You have never backed down from a fight, even when it cost you, even when it wasn't your fight. I stayed because I love you, and…because I want to be someone worthy of your love in return."

His eyes wavered as he covered her hand with his. "I have brought you nothing but pain."

"That isn't true, either."

Yes, there had been pain and heartache, but also so much joy. Castiel had given her something that no other person in the world had—unconditional friendship. And even if she was dying permanently this time, she would not change having met him, and certainly not her choice to follow him.

Castiel looked away toward the door. The faint light that had been weeping through the cracks was fading. Ryn knew it was nearing sunset, but it could just as easily have been the Darkness settling over the woods, creeping closer to swallow them whole. She shivered.

Castiel turned back toward her, mouth pinched in a deep frown. Without a word, he sat down beside her, drawing her back against his chest and enfolding her in his arms. Ryn nestled closer, her frigid core yearning for the body heat radiating from his vessel. Castiel tucked her head under his chin.

"I just got you back," he murmured.

Ryn squeezed her eyes shut against a swell of moisture. She had felt the same about him since the moment he'd walked back into her life. But that was the story of their love, wasn't it? Two lonely beings who'd found companionship and acceptance in each other, only to be ripped apart by outside forces again and again. Perhaps even Fate knew they shouldn't be together.

"The time I had with you is worth more than a thousand lifetimes," she whispered.

And at least Castiel wasn't alone anymore. Even when she'd be gone, he would have Sam and Dean. He had family and was loved.

Ryn drifted in and out, only half awake as Castiel held her close and complete darkness fell outside. A faint halo of golden luminescence filled Ryn's blurry vision, and it took her a moment to realize that it was coming from Castiel has he kept up a small, steady stream of healing into her weakening body. She wanted to tell him not to risk the light, but she was so cold and his grace so warm, and his touch as he carded fingers through her hair lulled her into an easy doze.

And Ryn thought, in the idle corners of her mind, that this was not a bad way to die.

A distant roar rumbled in the distance, and Castiel's hand stilled.

Ryn stirred groggily and mumbled, "What is it?"

The thunder grew louder, and Ryn's heart stuttered with fear. Was it the Darkness? Had it found them?

Castiel lurched upright. "It's Sam and Dean."

Ryn's eyelids fluttered in confusion. What?

Before she could vocalize the question, Castiel had slipped his arms under her shoulders and knees and scooped her up into his arms. Her head and vision spun as he carried her to the door. Then he paused and rocked back, followed by a loud crash and splintering of wood as he apparently kicked down the door rather than bothering to undo the latch.

The woods were pitch black, but a moment later two beams of light bobbed over the trees before landing on them. Ryn squinted against the harsh glare and turned her head into Castiel. Now that the rumbling was more distinct, she recognized it as the Impala's engine.

Tires screeched to a halt across gravel, and then there was a click of a door.

"Cas!"

"What happened?"

"Ryn's hurt, bad," he replied, carrying her forward once again. The nippiness of the night air was quickly replaced with a warm puff from interior vents as Castiel slid into the backseat with her. Her vision was spotty at best, but she could make out Sam's gigantic shadowy blur as he closed the door behind them and then darted into the front passenger seat.

"How did you find us?" Castiel asked incredulously.

"Long story," Dean replied. "Right now let's get out of here."

Ryn couldn't agree more, and was frankly so relieved at the unexpected yet very welcome rescue that she finally let herself succumb to the pull of oblivion.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean hung up with the tow company that had retrieved Cas's car from the bridge back in Oklahoma, having given them an FBI spiel about evidence and a case so they'd keep the Continental at impound and not do anything to it. The thing was totaled and not even drivable, but Dean didn't want to just leave it there. And though it seemed a trivial thing to check up on in light of the Darkness and Rowena on the loose and Ryn down the hall _dying_ , Dean needed to feel like he was doing something, even if it was stupid. He and Sam had been going through the Men of Letters' archives trying to find anything on phoenix lore, but so far they were coming up with zilch. Story of their lives.

At this point, Dean even would have suggested trying to track down another phoenix, except they had no idea whether there were any left in existence, or if Ryn was the last of her kind. And damn, four years ago he would have been celebrating a monster species going extinct, and now he was doing everything within his power to save one.

But he'd learned since then that 'monster' had more to do with heart and character than bloodline.

Dean pocketed his phone and headed down the corridor to Cas's room. The angel was sitting in a chair by the bed, morose gaze fixed on a sleeping Ryn lying tucked under the covers. Her pallor was wan, and even her auburn hair appeared dulled in hue. She was hanging on, but only because Cas stepped in to heal her every couple of hours or so. Dean wondered how long he'd be able to keep that up.

"Found where your car was towed," he said, breaking the silence. "Made sure it'll be kept safe until we can go get it."

Cas glanced up at him, brow puckering. With a small shake, he returned his eyes to Ryn. "I don't care about the car," he said quietly.

"I know."

He would, though, once Ryn was better. Dean would fix it up for them and then the two could go on road trips together, because come on, they couldn't _walk_ all over North America.

"I'm gonna get back to helping Sam," Dean said. "You need anything?"

Cas shook his head slowly. Dean's heart constricted at the raw pain etched onto his best friend's face. Why did this always have to happen to them? Why couldn't they ever keep something _good_ in their lives? Didn't they deserve that much, after everything? Cas sure as hell did. He'd already lost Ryn once— _twice_ , technically; he shouldn't have to go through that again. Especially since this time he wouldn't have the balm of a memory wipe to erase the pain.

Dean backed out of the room and returned to the library where Sam had his laptop open, expression slack in dismay.

"What'd you find?" Dean asked worriedly.

Sam didn't even look up at him as he replied, "Take a look."

Dean came around the table to see the screen, and felt the floor drop out from under him at the news footage showing a massive storm cloud stretching from the ground up to the sky, blotting out the sun. The caption of the news feed indicated it was Chicago.

The picture changed to a reporter, and Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder to hit the volume key.

"The city has lost all power," the news anchor was saying. "There has been no rain or hail reported, and meteorologists are baffled, saying the unusual storm resembles that of an F5 tornado or a hurricane, except that there are no destructive wind currents. Residents are being encouraged to stay inside until it passes."

The picture switched back to footage of the black cloud, which looked as though it was simply sitting on top of the city. Shit, it was now enormous. And if it continued to grow every time it devoured a transformer or power plant, would it eventually cover the entire country?

"We are so screwed," Dean muttered.

A muscle in Sam's jaw ticked, but he didn't say anything. What was there to say? This may be the one time where they wouldn't be able to fix their colossal mess.

Dean's phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID before quickly answering. "Charlie?"

"Dean! Have you seen the news?"

He sighed. "Yeah, we're looking at it right now. Where are you?"

"New Hampshire. I still haven't been able to find anything on the Darkness."

Dean's shoulders slumped. "Us neither."

"Okay, well, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"No, no," he said. "You stay put. This thing is growing, and I don't want you getting caught in it, you hear me?"

"But—"

"There's gotta be other places up there you can look for lore, right?" Dean interrupted. "New England's got some old haunts."

Charlie let out a heavy huff. "Okay," she said after a minute. "Just, promise me you won't do anything stupid without telling me first."

Dean almost cracked a smile. He couldn't promise that, not when the stakes were getting so big. He debated whether to tell Charlie about Ryn or not, but figured that would definitely make her try to make her way back to Lebanon, and Dean was determined to keep as many members of his family safe as possible. For however long he could, anyway.

"Just stay safe, kiddo," he said.

"I will," Charlie replied. "And Dean? You too."

He hung up, heart splintering, because even though he wanted to make that promise, Dean had no idea how he was supposed to keep it.

* * *

Rowena tapped a manicured fingernail against the side of her teacup as she breathed in the flora aroma wafting up from the steaming drink. Her gaze roved over the abandoned shoe factory she was currently holed up in. It wasn't the nicest of accommodations, but it was only temporary, after all. Dozens of candles sent shadows skittering across the floor and walls, the only source of light in the entire city of Chicago now that the Darkness had plunged it into eternal night.

Rowena took a sip of her tea, smiling smugly at the pitch blackness blanketing the windows outside. This was only the first step. The Darkness was showing tremendous potential for growth, and could very well devour the entire face of the earth in a few months' time. And from there, well, the ancient being might as well set its sights below, too. The underworld could use new management. And since Rowena was the Darkness's first and most devout follower, it only made sense that she be richly rewarded for her service.

'Queen of Hell'…yes, she could get used to that. One might even argue that she had a rightful claim on the throne, since the current king was her son. She might even be persuaded to let the pathetic weakling live…after all, Olivette could use some furry company in her hamster wheel.

The front door banged open, and the Darkness filtered in, pewter splinters crackling through its billowing core. Rowena set her teacup aside.

"Well now, how are you feeling?" she asked.

The cloud burbled. " _Strong_."

Rowena beamed. She'd used some of her magic to revitalize the Darkness after its brush with the Cage box before setting it loose on the city, and was pleased at how much good it had done. She was proving herself an invaluable ally.

The Darkness fizzed. " _And the more light I snuff out, the stronger I will become_." It lashed a foggy arm like a whip that struck across a row of candles, instantly extinguishing them and dimming some of the illumination in the factory.

Rowena stared at the smoking wicks, an unpleasant sensation quivering in her stomach. She forced out a chuckle to conceal it, and sauntered forward. "Aye. Soon you will be strong enough to rule the entire world."

" _Not the world,_ " the Darkness sibilated. " _The universe. First, I will bathe this planet in darkness, and then, once I'm powerful enough, I will wipe out its wretched sun._ " The fog churned and roiled, sparking almost gleefully. " _After that, I will destroy all of God's precious creations, down to every last star. There will be nothing, as it was in the beginning_."

Rowena's mouth slackened incredulously. "But," she sputtered, trying to regain her air of simpering flattery. "Why do that when you can simply enslave humanity? Force them to live in the shadow of your greatness?" She ducked her gaze demurely, though not without peeking up through her eyelashes. "Save for those few who worship you, of course." Rowena took another reverent step forward. "Why destroy everything when you can simply declare yourself the new God?"

" _I care nothing for these little wind-up toys,_ " it spat. " _Creation is an infestation. God whittled me down to a_ worm _to make room for them. No longer. God is gone, and it's_ my _time again_."

It reared up with a surge of electricity, and Rowena's hair stood on end. She took a nervous step backward as her heart rate kickstarted into overdrive. The Darkness shrieked and dove toward her, and before she could think to recite a spell of defense, the cloying fumes were forcing their way down her nose and throat. Rowena bowed forward, gagging.

_No!_ This wasn't the way it was supposed to go.

She dropped to her knees and clawed at her throat as her vision blurred with the clashing of shadows and firelight. With a snap and whoosh, the candles were doused, plunging everything into pitch black.

Rowena choked, lungs burning and brain receptors firing. She had only a split moment to rue her recent choices before she was snuffed out as easily as those candle flames.

* * *

Castiel visually traced the delicate lines of Ryn's features. He'd already memorized them all, from the curve of her lips to the precise spacing between each feathery eyelash that fanned out over her closed eyes. Should he shift his gaze away, he would be able to draw up an exact image of her in his mind, and yet he was terrified that even that would slip through his fingers like sand through a sieve.

His brain had been torn into and re-ordered so many times in the past that Castiel was afraid it was somehow irreparably damaged, that even with Naomi dead, he would be unable to hold onto his most cherished memories if the real flesh and blood weren't standing before him as a constant reminder. Sam, Dean…Ryn. They made him, for lack of a better term, _human_. And Castiel wasn't ready to lose them, for fear he would also lose himself.

His hand glowed faintly where it clasped Ryn's, feeding her a steady stream of healing. It was weakening him, the longer he kept this up, but the small doses like an IV drip kept Ryn in a more restful state, as opposed to her suffering through repeated deteriorations between larger bursts of healing. Castiel would much rather endure minor discomfort and weakness if it eased her pain.

Footsteps entered the room, and he looked up to find Sam standing in the doorway with a couple of heat packs in his arms. His eyes were full of sympathy, which Castiel couldn't bear to see directed at him, and so he returned his gaze to Ryn.

Sam came around the other side of the bed and lifted the covers to place the heated packs against Ryn's back and shoulders. Her body gave a small shudder, but she didn't wake. Sam drew the comforter back over and tucked it tighter around her.

"Cas," he said gently. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine," Castiel replied tonelessly.

"At least take a walk, get some coffee."

"She's dying, Sam," he bit out, and admitting out loud what he'd known all along felt like a dagger through his heart. It didn't matter what Ryn had said about this not being Castiel's fault, about having never lived a life without danger; she was still here because of him. When would he stop failing to save those he cared about?

"We'll figure something out," Sam pressed. "There's always a solution."

"This isn't like an angel losing their grace and becoming human," Castiel argued. "A phoenix can't survive without its fire."

Sam's expression pinched helplessly. He was trying, Castiel knew that. Had been trying since the moment they'd gotten back to the bunker, pouring over the Men of Letters' resources in a desperate bid to find something, anything, to save Ryn. Castiel would be forever grateful to him and Dean for that.

"Well, can't she just…absorb a candle flame or something?" Sam asked, though it was obvious he was grasping at straws. "Fire is self-perpetuating, so she'd only need a spark to reignite her inner flame, right?"

Castiel started to shake his head; it didn't work like that. Except…he froze. A spark… Oh, he was such a _fool_. How could he have forgotten that Ryn had given him part of her spark? In fact, that might have been the reason he was currently able to heal her at all.

Castiel straightened with renewed vigor. "Sam, that's it."

Sam quirked a brow at him. "What, seriously? We just need to get her to swallow a candle flame or something?"

Castiel shook his head. "No. Ryn gave me part of her spark. We can use that to save her."

"Hold on, what do you mean she gave you part of her spark? When?"

"After the Stynes."

Sam's forehead creased in confusion. "Why would she…" His expression slackened as understanding dawned. "You weren't okay after."

Castiel rolled his shoulder, discomfited by the memory. "I wasn't dying, but I wasn't…well. If it hadn't been for Ryn sharing some of her regenerative fire, I might still be recovering."

Sam ran a hand over his hair. "Okay, but…" He glanced at Castiel's and Ryn's clasped hands with a frown. "If you have some of her power, why isn't the healing sticking?"

"Because it's not enough to reignite her flame from within," he replied. "For that, we need to extract her spark from my grace and return it to her." It had done its job in helping his grace recover from the Stynes' attack and Castiel no longer needed it. Ryn did.

Sam's eyes widened. "And how are we supposed to do that?"

Castiel worked his jaw. That, he didn't know. A cursory examination of his grace revealed that Ryn's spark had practically melded with it after all this time, but there had to be a way.

He infused a full burst of healing into Ryn and then released her hand before getting to his feet. "I need to do some research," he said, but hesitated. "The healings aren't lasting as long. Will you…?"

Sam nodded quickly. "I'll stay. And I'll come get you if anything changes."

Castiel gave him a grateful look, and reluctantly turned to exit the room and make his way to the library. He already knew of one method to extract an angel's grace, but didn't know if siphoning off part of his essence like she had done for him would work. Ryn had once told him they were two fires burning on opposite ends of the spectrum, and it couldn't be a more apt metaphor in this situation. Grace might not be compatible with a phoenix. It was frankly a miracle Castiel's angelic energy hadn't consumed what she'd given him to begin with. So he needed to find a way to separate her spark from him first.

Filled with staunch resolve, Castiel went straight to the library catalog and began his search.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean scrolled through the web results on his laptop about phoenix lore as he sat by Ryn's bedside. He'd switched with Sam not that long ago so his more nerdy brother could help Cas scour through the Men of Letters archives on the grace angle. That didn't mean Dean wasn't going to keep at it himself, even though his search was proving fruitless. He let out a soft snort at some wacky—and completely unhelpful—mythology.

"If you could fly around spitting out pearls, Sam and me could stop committing credit card fraud."

"Who says I can't?" a frail voice responded.

Dean straightened abruptly, and quickly set the computer on the nightstand. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Ryn whispered, and then slowly tracked her eyes around the room.

"Cas is in the library with Sam," Dean said, figuring she was looking for said angel.

"Is he okay?"

Dean quirked a brow at her. "Yeah, he's fine."

She tried to lift her head, but barely made it an inch before collapsing back against the pillow. "What day is it?"

"Thursday."

She let out a heavy sigh. "He's going to wear himself out if he keeps healing me."

Dean didn't respond to that. He'd seen how haggard Cas was looking over the past three days, and it wasn't just from worry and stress.

"You just hang in there, okay?" he said.

"Dean," Ryn said in a low tone. "We're only postponing the inevitable." Her face scrunched up with a wince. "Listen," she gasped, "take care of Cas, alright? He's going to need you and Sam after…"

Dean's expression hardened as the memory of a night in some dingy boiler room with the cloying scent of blood and smoke thick in the air came back to him. He and Ryn had barely known each other then, but she had told him the exact same thing before she'd removed the Mark of Cain from his arm. Because she'd expected the effort to kill her—and it had. But as happened often with the Winchesters' lives, it didn't stick.

Dean leaned forward earnestly, arms resting on his thighs. "You're not gonna die."

Ryn let out a small huff of exasperation.

"You're part of Cas's family now," he went on. "Which makes you part of ours. And we don't die easy."

"You do realize the irony in all this," she smirked.

Dean frowned. Well…shit. No wonder they were no good for anyone. What did it say about them that a freakin' _phoenix_ was more likely to die for good around them?

"Cas and Sam are looking for a way to extract the spark you gave Cas," he said, trying to convince her that there _was_ hope.

Ryn's eyes widened, and she tried to push herself up, but ended up falling back with a breathless gasp. "What? You can't do that. It would have woven completely through his grace by now; trying to extract it would be dangerous!"

Dean swallowed hard. He'd figured that already. But he also knew why Cas had to try. It wasn't any less than what they'd done for each other countless times.

"You really think Cas wouldn't do everything within his power to save you?" he said, pausing for a beat. "It's what you did."

Not only that, but it was who Cas was. He'd thrown himself into the line of fire plenty of times before to save the Winchesters, even to try helping Heaven, no matter how screwed up things got as a result. And Dean _was_ worried about Cas pushing himself too far in this, but who was he to stand in his best friend's way? Better Dean stand with him, and do everything within _his_ power to save the angel if…when…things went south.

"He's sacrificed too much already," Ryn whispered.

Dean was silent for a moment. "You both have."

Another Winchester family prerequisite, it seemed.

"What about the Darkness?" she asked.

"We're dealing with that, too."

Ryn started to shake her head at him, but then screwed her eyes shut and let out a muffled noise of pain.

Dean tensed. "Want me to get Cas?"

"No," she grunted firmly. "I'm not that close to death again yet."

Dean pressed his mouth into a thin line. And he thought he was a masochist.

He reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand and offered it to her, brows knitting together as he watched her struggle to twist the cap off. She caught him staring, and thrust the bottle back at him with an exasperated eye roll. He quickly wrenched the cap off and handed it back.

"Can you really make pearls?" he asked.

Ryn swallowed a few small sips before collapsing back against the pillow. Dean took the water bottle back from her and set it on the nightstand again.

"No."

"Too bad."

She canted a look at him. "You and Sam really commit credit card fraud?"

Dean rolled his neck, prepared to deny it like he usually did, but hey, no secrets among family, right? "We don't exactly get paid to save the world," he pointed out. "But we don't have to do it as much anymore, now that we have access to the Men of Letters' resources." He canted a questioning look at her. "How do you get by?"

Ryn shrugged one shoulder against the pillow. "I have a cache of gold stashed away."

Dean's brows rose sharply. "Seriously? Where?"

"Like I'd tell you," she snorted.

"Oh, I see how it is."

Her lips quirked, but then her expression sobered again. "Cas blames himself," she said quietly.

Yeah, Cas usually did, even when crap wasn't actually his fault.

Ryn's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she met Dean's gaze. "If it doesn't work, don't let him…don't let him wallow. Remind him there were good times, and those were most important."

A spiky lump started gathering in Dean's throat, and he wanted to argue that it wasn't going to come to that…but, dammit, how many people had he sworn to save and then failed? He was cursed, always had been. They all were.

"Want to tell me where Cas can find your gold?" he said instead, going for the gallows humor rather than acknowledging how on the verge his heart was to breaking.

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Nice try," she murmured as her eyelids fluttered closed and her breathing evened out into a steady yet ragged rhythm.

Dean's expression fell, and after a moment he went back to his research, the only sound in the room the clacking of the keyboard. When his phone rang with a blaring chime, he hurriedly fished it out of his pocket to answer before it disturbed Ryn. He paused, though, at the unknown number, and quickly got up to move to the doorway before sliding the answer key.

"Hello?" he said guardedly.

"Dean Winchester," a familiar Scottish lilt answered, making his spine jerk ramrod straight.

"What the hell do you want?" he snapped under his breath, stepping further out into the hallway. "How did you even get this number?"

"I looked it up in my son's contacts a while ago," Rowena replied. "One never knows when little tidbits of information such as that will be useful. Like now."

Dean's grip tightened angrily on his phone. "What do you want?" he repeated.

There was a small sigh through the speaker. "I might have made a mistake. With the Darkness."

Dean snorted. "Oh really?" He narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what her game was.

"Listen to me," Rowena urged. "The Darkness is planning to destroy everything. The earth. The _sun_."

Dean stiffened. Shit.

That was, if Rowena could be believed.

"I'll help you stop it," the witch went on.

"Like I'm supposed to believe you?" he scoffed. "We had the Darkness right where we needed it, and you screwed us. Now it's eaten Chicago!"

"Exactly," she pressed. "And it won't stop there."

Dean started to pace the hallway. "Again, why should I believe a word you're saying?"

"Look," Rowena said impatiently. "I wanted to get back at my weakling son. Wanted to ally myself with someone of _real_ power."

Dean rolled his eyes; he was seriously getting close to hanging up.

"Can't exactly get my satisfaction if there's nothing left to lord over anyone," she added pointedly.

Dean's jaw tightened. He didn't like this, but given the complete lack of progress they'd been making, could they really afford to be picky?

"Fine," he bit out. "You want to help, tell us what to do."

"You'll need more than that," Rowena replied. "You'll need me. And I have a condition."

Dean pivoted sharply. "You really think you're in a position to make demands?" he snarled.

"I know things," she said. "I was in the Darkness's confidence." She sniffed disdainfully. "Before it decided to turn on me."

Oh, big surprise there.

"You need what I can tell you," Rowena insisted. "But…you have to protect me from my son."

Dean shook his head incredulously. In all likelihood, they'd probably need Crowley's help again before this was all over, especially since he still had the Cage box. But…Crowley had apparently needed Rowena to stuff the Darkness into the container in the first place.

Yeah, that was going to be a mess later, but Dean wasn't going to worry about it right now. His gaze shifted through the doorway into the bedroom where Ryn was lying, shallow breaths wheezing up out of bloodless lips. Well, desperate times and all that.

Dean lowered his voice. "I have a condition too."

* * *

Sam slammed another book closed, frustration getting the better of him. The Men of Letters had plenty of research on angels and their grace, including a variety of spells proven and untested, but all of it was for their own personal agendas, and not for necessarily helping an angel, or phoenix. Granted, Cas and Ryn had been setting all kinds of precedents pretty much from the time they'd met, so it wasn't surprising there was nothing on separating a phoenix's spark from an angel's grace.

Still, they were running out of time. Cas had just come back from giving Ryn another dose of healing, and it'd left the dark circles under his eyes looking more bruised and he was dragging his feet when he'd reentered the library. Sam was beginning to wonder whether Cas's mojo was just getting drained, or if he was somehow taking Ryn's pain into himself. Sam wouldn't put it past the angel. He also knew Cas couldn't keep it up indefinitely.

Cas's eyes landed on the book Sam had just shoved away from himself. "Nothing?" he said despondently.

Sam's chest constricted with the wish that he could say otherwise. "Not yet," he replied, trying to infuse as much hope into his tone as he could. They weren't giving up.

Cas looked away, jaw tightening. "I now understand some of the hard decisions you and Dean have faced over the years. Here I am pouring every last ounce of focus into a long shot for a single life while the world outside burns." He lifted his head as though he could see through the concrete walls, even though Lebanon wasn't covered in a thick black cloud.

Yet.

"Once Ryn is better, we'll _all_ figure out how to stop the Darkness," Sam told him.

Cas shifted his gaze to rove over the rows and rows of bookshelves, eyes wavering at the sheer volume of impossibility before them. Sam's shoulders sagged under the weight of it all, too.

Dean came into the library then, only to sweep right past them toward the map room. "We're about to have company," he said over his shoulder.

Sam exchanged a confused look with Cas. "What? Dean, who?" he shouted after his brother, but was ignored. There was the echo of footsteps clomping up the stairs, followed by the front door grating open.

Sam resigned himself to waiting as he listened to Dean coming back down. The second set of footsteps he expected were too quiet to hear, and Sam wondered if Charlie was back, but that didn't make sense. Dean would have said it was her, and Charlie's bubbling exuberance would have heralded her arrival.

When Dean came around the corner and up the two steps into the library, Sam's jaw dropped open at who was trailing behind him. "Dean," he sputtered, surging out of his seat. "What the hell?"

Cas narrowed his eyes. "Who is she?"

"Cas, this is Rowena," Dean introduced. "She's a witch." He paused for a beat. "And Crowley's mother."

"Crowley is your son?" Cas said incredulously, blinking in dismay. "Well, I'm sure that was quite the challenge."

Rowena eyed him with interest. "You must be the angel Dean has been telling me about."

Sam shot his brother a disbelieving look of accusation. What the hell was Dean thinking?

Cas furrowed his brow. "I am an angel."

"No, no," Sam broke in sharply. "The last time we accepted Rowena's _help_ , she helped the Darkness _escape_!"

Rowena lifted her chin. "I made a mistake."

"A mistake?" Sam repeated.

"Look, we don't exactly have a lot of options here," Dean interrupted. "The Darkness is growing."

"And whose fault is that?" Sam lobbed back.

"Which is why you need me if we're going to put it back in a box," Rowena interjected. "I know its plans, and its nature. The Darkness is older than time itself, was around before God created, well, everything. And it's been nursing a grudge for the past several millennia. Now it intends to swallow everything, including the sun."

Sam's heart dropped into his stomach. Oh, damn. He still gave the witch a suspicious look. "And that's why you're suddenly changing your tune?"

Rowena lifted her nose haughtily. "That, and the Darkness repaid my earlier benevolence by killing me."

Sam frowned. "Then how…?"

"I'm a survivor. A hard life has taught me to be prepared. I, long ago, secreted within my person a wee casket of powerful magic." She lifted her plum dress to expose part of her right thigh and a jagged scar there. "When the spell inside me sensed my life-force ebbing…it went to work. And I was revived."

Sam ground his jaw. He still didn't like this.

"Alright, enough showing off," Dean said impatiently. "If you're as good a witch as you say, then first you help us save a phoenix's spark."

Sam stiffened. Oh, no way… _that_ was what Dean had been filling her in on?

Rowena canted her head in consideration. "I've been giving it some thought, and I believe I can extract that kind of spark from another essence." She turned a scrutinizing gaze to Cas. "It's a delicate procedure, though, and won't be pleasant."

Sam wanted to protest, because he didn't trust Rowena _at all_ , but Cas's eyes had lit up with unveiled eagerness.

"You can do it, though?" Cas checked.

"Aye."

"Then what are we waiting for?" he said, far too readily in Sam's opinion.

"I'll need some ingredients," Rowena replied.

"Fine," Dean said. "Sam, why don't you take Rowena down to the storerooms."

Sam's mouth moved soundlessly in stupefaction. They couldn't be serious. They were going to trust Rowena, just like that? " _Dean_."

Cas turned to him. "Sam, please." And dammit, if the sheer pleading in Cas's voice wasn't enough to break his heart.

Sam clenched his fists. "Fine. This way." He tried to walk at a slight angle so as not to fully turn his back on the witch as she followed him into the hallway. "I don't know what your game is," he said in a low tone, "but if you hurt them, I will make you burn."

"Ach, so untrusting, Samuel," she said flippantly.

He whirled on her, towering over her petite frame. "I mean it. The Darkness ate Ryn's fire. If you're here to get the last of it, or to take an angel's grace to feed it, I swear to God…"

Rowena lifted her chin, despite the slight tremble in her features that suggested she was afraid—of something. "You want assurances. Then understand that I meant it when I said I was a survivor, and will do whatever it takes to endure. And right now that means allying myself with you and your brother. So I will help with the angel's problem, and then the Darkness, and then I will go on my merry way, ne'er to bother your hair again."

Sam gritted his teeth. He didn't buy that for a second. Rowena was a witch, and a wicked one at that; she'd do something to make them hunt her down eventually.

But he also realized what Dean did: they were horribly outmatched against the Darkness. And if Rowena could actually save Ryn…well, they'd made deals with the devil before.

Sam stepped back, allowing Rowena to continue down the hall, and hoped they weren't going to get burned again from this.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel's nerves were a jittery mess now that they'd finally found a way to potentially extract Ryn's spark and return it to her. He didn't know much about the witch they were enlisting for help—save that she was Crowley's mother, and that didn't exactly inspire confidence. Plus, Sam obviously didn't trust her.

Yet Dean was the one who'd brought her here, had asked the witch to help them save Ryn before dealing with the Darkness, so that spoke volumes. Castiel would put his trust in the elder Winchester.

He turned to head back to Ryn, but stopped when Dean put a hand on his arm.

"Cas, listen," he began soberly. "I'm gonna do what we have to, to help you save Ryn."

Castiel stiffened at the unspoken 'but' clear in Dean's tone. The Winchester tightened his grip on Castiel's arm as though anticipating him wrenching away.

"But she would not want you dying for her."

"I don't intend to die," he replied.

Dean leveled a wry look at him. "Yeah, but you would, without a second thought."

Castiel opened his mouth to assuage Dean's worries, but the Winchester was right. "What are you trying to say, Dean?" he asked stiffly. Did Castiel have his full support or not?

Dean's gaze turned sympathetic. "Dying for each other, it's a bad pattern to get into. I should know. I just want you to remember that there are other people who love you."

Castiel's heart twinged, and he bit back the argument that had sprung to his lips. "That has never stopped you," he said quietly.

Moisture glinted in the corners of Dean's eyes, and he looked away for a brief moment. When he returned his gaze to Castiel's, he cleared his throat and lifted a staunch jaw. "We're doing this," he said firmly. "But if anything starts to go wrong, I'm pulling the plug."

"Dean—"

"That's not negotiable, Cas. This doesn't work, we'll find another way."

Castiel bristled. " _Dean_ —"

"You think Ryn will be able to live with it, if you traded your life for hers?" Dean cut him off.

Castiel clamped his mouth shut. He didn't have an answer for that…save that if their positions were reversed, _he_ wouldn't be able to live with it.

"I can't lose her, Dean," he said brokenly.

Dean moved his hand up to clasp Castiel's shoulder. "We can't lose you, either. But I swear to you, Cas, whatever we have to do. If we have to bust into Purgatory to bring her back, I will do it."

Castiel was stunned by Dean's sincere declaration, backed by the ferocity of every ounce of the Winchester's being. Castiel found himself nodding in acceptance from profound belief alone, never mind the barriers that made Dean's promise impossible, never mind the looming threat of the Darkness preparing to destroy _everything_ —Earth, Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. Because when Dean Winchester set his mind to something, not even the likes of Heaven and Hell could stand in his way.

"Alright," Castiel murmured.

Dean gave him a small smile in return. "Okay then. Let's do this."

They made their way to the room where Ryn lay, currently unconscious. Castiel's healings had been doing less and less, and she was slipping further away from him. He almost reached out to extend a spurt of grace, but forced himself to refrain from expending the energy he'd likely need for whatever came next. Extracting Ryn's spark would not be easy, and he wanted it to be as intact as possible, lest this whole attempt be for nothing. He brushed a lock of hair from her face, tensing at how cold she felt. They needed to hurry.

Footsteps sounded outside in the corridor, and Castiel looked up as Sam and Rowena entered the room, both of their arms full of spell ingredients. Sam deposited his load on the desk, and Rowena followed suit. The witch's eyes briefly roved over Ryn with open curiosity. It made Castiel bridle with a surge of protectiveness.

"How is this going to work?" Sam asked, tone full of equal protectiveness and promise of retribution should the witch try anything.

If Rowena heard the thread of warning, she ignored it. "I will use this spell to secure a connection to the phoenix's spark and draw it out." She turned an appraising eye on Castiel. "I understand it's quite tangled with your, what was it called, grace?"

Castiel tried not to fidget in discomfort. "Yes," he said gruffly.

"But you can do it?" Dean asked. "Without hurting him?"

"Oh, it will hurt," Rowena replied. "But it won't cause any permanent damage."

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked, but at least he didn't try to put a stop to this before they had begun. Pain didn't scare Castiel, anyway. There were worse things in life.

"I suggest you lie down," Rowena added.

Castiel turned to the bed and laid himself down on top of the covers next to Ryn. He felt vulnerable, being prone like this, as the witch mixed several herbs in a bowl and then came to stand over him.

Lowering her gaze to the spell bowl, Rowena began her incantation. At first, nothing happened, but after the second stanza, Castiel felt something deep within his sternum begin to tingle. A second later it was like being skewered by a searing, red-hot spear, and he sucked in a sharp gasp of surprise and pain.

"Cas?" Dean called worriedly.

"I'm fine," he gritted out, forcing breaths in and out through his nose.

Rowena kept up her utterances, and then Castiel was assaulted with a vicious tug that stole his breath. He fisted his hands in the comforter and braced himself. When he had been human and had stitches on his hand that one time, he'd learned the sensation of thread being sewn into flesh—and then later the tug of having it removed. Which was precisely what it felt like now: Ryn's spark had been sutured into his grace, and now Rowena was removing the delicate thread of fire. So every tug and pull yanked at his essence as though it would rip him open at any moment. He felt pieces of his grace tear in places where Rowena's spell was less than precise, and finally he couldn't hold back a cry.

"Cas!" Dean moved forward as though to put an end to this, but Castiel shot him a sharp glare.

"I can handle it," he forced out between clenched teeth. His grace was vibrating painfully under the assault, unwilling to give up the threads of fire it had taken in as its own, but Castiel would not shatter from this. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on not screaming.

After several agonizingly long moments, the fire blazing in his chest began to migrate upward, and then Castiel's throat was burning, and he opened his mouth wide to scream as the searing flame came up and out. He coughed and choked on singed air, and hands were suddenly on his shoulders and knees to hold him down.

"Cas!"

He gasped, blinking rapidly to find Dean's and Sam's blurred faces illuminated in fiery halos. It took Castiel a moment to comprehend that the source of light was a small bead of fire forming in the air directly above him as Rowena wove the gossamer threads of Ryn's spark back into a single shape.

Dean's worried gaze flicked to it. "Is that it?" he asked.

"Aye," the witch said. She waved her hand, and the tiny sliver of fire floated down toward Ryn.

Castiel lolled his head to trace its path, and watched as the speck passed between Ryn's parted lips and disappeared. The hands holding him down eased up on their pressure, but didn't let go.

"Nothing's happening," Dean growled after a moment.

Castiel shifted his hand to take Ryn's, giving her fingers a weak squeeze. He reached out with his grace, searching for the song he now knew by heart, and he could have wept when the faint chords echoed softly.

"It worked," he breathed. "I can feel it. It needs to recharge, but it's there."

He heard both Winchesters exhale in relief. Sam gave his knee a reassuring squeeze while Dean turned concerned eyes on him.

"And how are you doing?"

Castiel's eyelids were fluttering, despite his attempts to keep them open. "I need to recharge, too," he said, surprised at how frail his voice sounded. "But I'm alright."

And he was. His grace was a little tender after the ordeal, but still as whole as it had been with Ryn's fire bolstering it.

Dean gave him a small, tentative smile, likely still reeling from the adrenaline of worry and the crash of realizing everything had worked out. It certainly left Castiel feeling exhausted.

"Get some rest, then," Dean said.

Castiel hummed his compliance, sleep already tugging him under. He drifted away with his hand still clasping Ryn's and the echo of her song resonating in his soul.

* * *

Dean plunked the tray carrying a teapot and teacups on the study table, clinking the chinaware. Rowena merely gave him a sickly sweet smile as she began to pour herself a cup of tea. Dean hadn't even known they'd had the crap in the pantry, and he wasn't about to tell the witch it was over fifty years old. But she had just saved Ryn, so he could at least provide Rowena with some tea when she'd asked. She apparently didn't care for coffee, which was fine by him too; more for him and Sam.

"So," Dean started, "I'll get the Cage box from Crowley, and you stuff the Darkness into it."

Rowena took a ginger sip of her tea. "Ah, about that."

Dean stiffened, and Sam shot him a pointed 'I-told-you-so' glare.

Rowena set the cup down. "The Darkness is now too big to fit in a container, even one made out of Cage material. We'll have to weaken it first."

"Weaken it?" Dean repeated dubiously. "And how the hell are we supposed to do that?"

"It won't be easy," Rowena allowed. "The Darkness hasn't been this large since the beginning of time, and back then it was God who beat it back."

"So we need the power of God," Sam said thoughtfully.

Dean threw his hands up. "Great. Well, He's left the building. Got any other takers?"

Sam stood abruptly and went over to retrieve his laptop from the next table over. "We only need God-level power, not God himself."

He sat down again and made a few clacks on the keyboard while Dean waited impatiently.

"So, back when you had the Mark, I'd started looking outside the lore in history for something to use against it. And I found this, the Vichy Memorandems. They were Nazi communications that puzzle historians to this day. And they speak of a super weapon obtained by the Ahnenerbe, said to be strong enough to win the war." Sam paused to look up at them. "The Ahnenerbe was a special branch the Nazis had devoted to archaeology."

"Not seeing how the Nazi trivia is relevant," Dean said.

Sam shot him a somewhat peeved glare. " _Well_ , these memos refer to this super weapon as 'The Hand of God.' I mean, that was sort of a catch-all term for several objects He touched on Earth in biblical times. But they're believed to contain traces of His power."

Rowena straightened, resting her forearms across the table. "Really? Do tell."

Dean shook his head. "Well, if this thing was so powerful it could win them the war, why didn't it?"

Sam leaned back in his chair, eyes on the screen. "Because they lost it. En route to Berlin, it was stolen. The Nazis searched high and low for the thief, but they never found their prime suspect, uh, here—Delphine Seydoux. French mistress to a high-ranking Nazi. Thought to be a French traitor, 'til she killed her German lover, and made off with the weapon."

"How resourceful of her," Rowena commented with an air of approval.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Allied spy? French resistance?" he asked.

"That's what the Nazis thought. But their investigation led them to a different conclusion. That she was an 'un femme de lettre,'" Sam replied with a knowing look.

Dean just stared at him blankly.

Sam huffed. "A Woman of Letters." He got up again and went to one of the bookcases that held Men of Letters' ledgers.

"Ach," Rowena groused. "And she sounded so promising."

"Who knew the Men of Letters had European chapters?" Dean remarked, ignoring her.

"Maybe it wasn't an entire chapter, just an asset, you know?" Sam said as he thumbed through the pages of one of the books.

"Yeah, and letting women join way back in the forties?" Dean snorted. "I just never got the impression that they were so big on gender equality, you know? It's right there in the name."

"Women are so often overlooked," Rowena hummed. "When we are, in fact, the more clever and cunning sex."

Dean twisted around to face her. "Really? Need a reminder why you're here in the first place?"

Rowena turned her nose up, but at least stopped talking.

"Here we go," Sam spoke up. "This report was written by Clifford Henshaw, a bunker-based Man of Letters back in 1943. It's the right era." He sighed. "But it's in French."

"I can read it," Rowena volunteered.

Sam shot Dean an uncertain look, to which Dean just shrugged. Rowena was just as invested in stopping the Darkness as they were. He passed her the book reluctantly.

"Hm, it appears to be transcriptions of communications between this Man of Letters and Delphine."

"Yeah, from transatlantic cables," Sam put in.

Rowena made a few ruminative noises as she scanned the words. "They were making arrangements to get the artifact out of Europe to keep it safe. This man, Henshaw, pulled some strings with a Man of Letters in the…OSS, to requisition an active US submarine to transport Delphine and the weapon back to here."

"Wait," Dean said. "Back to here, as in the bunker?"

"I suppose."

Dean straightened with a surge of hope. "So it's been here the whole time." About time they were due to find something _useful_ in this place.

"Uh…" Sam started in a tone that made Dean want to smack his brother for however he was about to ruin this. He slid the book away from Rowena to take a look, mouth turning down. "No. It never arrived. The USS Bluefin came under German attack midway through its trip across the Atlantic. The sub was sunk. The ship and its contents haven't been recovered to this day." Sam pushed the book away with a scowl. "Great. It's lost."

For the love of…Dean wanted to punch something. But then he paused as a thought occurred to him. "Or is it?"

Sam snorted. "Yeah, I'd say so. Tides took the wreckage, submersibles have been trying to locate it for years. I mean, if James Cameron and his Avatar billions can't find it…" He shrugged helplessly.

"Yeah, but…we have something James Cameron doesn't have," Dean said, unable to keep the excitement from bubbling up in his voice. He gave his brother a meaningful look.

Sam furrowed his brow as it took him a moment to catch up. "What? Dean, Cas basically just underwent grace surgery; he can't send us back in time. And even once he's better, he doesn't have his wings."

Dean waved that off. "There are other ways to time travel. Like when Henry and Abaddon came here from the past."

Sam shook his head in growing exasperation. "That was a blood to blood spell, and we don't have time to try tracking down some distant relative of someone on that sub."

"A blood to blood spell?" Rowena piped up. "May I see it?"

Dean frowned at her, but shrugged and got up to go find it, ignoring the warning glower Sam was shooting at him. He wasn't ready to let this plan go yet.

The spell was easy to find, and Rowena pursed her lips as she went over it. "Hm, I can tweak this, make it a Man of Letters to Man of Letters spell. Or, Woman of Letters, as the case may be."

Dean's brows shot upward. "Seriously?"

She nodded. "Aye."

"Wait a second," Sam jumped in. "Aren't there still risks with time travel? I mean, aren't there consequences?"

"Sam, this is the ideal scenario," Dean pressed.

His brother quirked a dubious brow at him. "What?"

"That sub is a tin can floating in the middle of the ocean, doomed to go down. You can't really mess with history at 20,000 leagues. So I get in, get the weapon, get out. It's a milk run." Dean winced a split second after those words left his mouth, and Sam's expression darkened.

"You mean 'we,' don't you?" he said sharply.

Dean shook his head. "One of us has to stay here and watch Rowena."

The witch drew her shoulders back. "Excuse me?"

"Then you stay and I'll go."

Dean tried not to roll his eyes. "Sam, I'll be fine."

They stared at each other for a moment longer, two indomitable wills locked in combat. But Dean had always been able to outlast his little brother.

"Fine," Sam bit out. "But you better come back in one piece, jerk."

Dean flashed him a confident grin. "Of course, bitch."

Rowena glanced between them. "So nice to see such strapping young lads with the eloquence of princes."

"Shut up," they both said in unison.

Rowena turned away with a haughty moue.

Dean clapped his hands together. "Okay, let's do this."

"Now?" Sam sputtered.

"No time like the present."

"Shouldn't we wait to ask Cas if this is really a good idea?"

Dean shook his head. "Sam, I've got this. And I'll probably be back before he and Ryn even wake up."

Sam's expression remained sour, but he didn't offer any more protests as they gathered the ingredients needed for the spell. Rowena said they'd still use Dean's blood to establish the connection, which was annoying, but nothing he wasn't used to. After slitting his palm, Dean quickly wrapped a handkerchief around it and stood back as Rowena recited the spell.

"Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh. Kah-nee-lah."

The blood symbol they'd painted on the support column began to glow, golden lines radiating outward until they formed the frame of a portal. Dean took a deep breath, and stepped through it.


	9. Chapter 9

Ryn opened her eyes to a concrete ceiling and the startling feeling of being completely warm from the inside out. She'd been so cold lately, she'd almost forgotten what it felt like to burn. She closed her eyes again, reveling in the sensation.

The internal heat wasn't the only kind she felt. There was a comforter pulled up over her chest, and the press of a warm body against her right side. She turned her head to find Castiel laying on his hip, propped up on one elbow as he stared at her.

Ryn arched a brow at him. "Were you watching me sleep?"

"Yes." He paused. "I've been told it's 'creepy,' but I wanted to make sure you were all right."

In fact, she did feel fine. A flicker of fire was simmering deep inside, smaller than usual, but given a little more time, it would return to its quiet inferno. Ryn stiffened and jolted upright, rolling over to face Castiel and placing a hand against his cheek. The spark she'd grown used to sensing thrum between them was gone, and his grace when she looked into his eyes no longer had an amber hue overlaid with the indigo and silver. Somehow, they had extracted the spark she'd given him, like Dean had said they would, and Ryn didn't know whether to be furious or relieved.

"You could have hurt yourself further, you know that?" she chastised.

Castiel gazed back at her unapologetically. "I couldn't let you die." Something in his eyes shifted with vulnerability, and his tone dropped. "You mean too much to me."

Her expression softened, and she moved her hand down to where his rested on the mattress between them, interlocking their fingers. He meant too much to her, too. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He reached his other hand out to brush a lock of hair away from her face. "Yes. I've been resting. I only woke up fifteen minutes ago."

Ryn frowned as she craned her neck to gaze around the otherwise empty room. "Where are Sam and Dean?"

"I don't know," Castiel replied. "Presumably they have turned their attentions to the Darkness." His jaw tightened. "It's devoured the city of Chicago."

Ryn's eyes widened. " _Bozhe moi_ ," she breathed.

He canted a furrowed look at her. "I don't think God had anything to do with it."

Ryn gave herself a small shake. They needed to get back out there and help…and yet she wanted nothing more in this moment than to stay here with Castiel, humbled and grateful that they were both _alive_ and okay.

He seemed to share her thoughts, as he gave her a regretful look before sitting up all the way and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He was about to stand up, but Ryn kept a firm grip on his hand, tugging him back.

"Cas. Thank you."

He cast a look over his shoulder, eyes swimming with more emotion than Ryn was used to seeing from him at a single time. He twisted back around and leaned down to steal a quick kiss. Her lips tingled at the brief contact, the scent of ozone and rain filling her senses with an invigorating rush. It left her torn between pulling him back again and rising to face the world.

But it sounded like things were in a much worse state than when she'd last been conscious, and so she took a deep breath and got to her feet.

She followed Castiel down the corridor and out into the library, where Ryn paused at the sight of a strange newcomer sitting at one of the tables with Sam.

The Winchester's eyes widened when he saw them, and he quickly stood. "Cas. Hey, are you both okay?"

Castiel nodded. "We're both much better." He gave the woman with a wavy mantle of red hair a measured nod. "Thank you," he said, though it sounded a bit more forced than Ryn suspected the situation warranted. Especially if this woman was responsible for Ryn getting her spark back.

The stranger hid a pleased smile behind a cup of tea she held to her lips. "See, Samuel? I can be quite helpful."

Sam rolled his eyes to the ceiling before his expression quickly shifted back to relieved. "I know you guys have been through a lot recently, but if you're up for it, we could really use all hands on deck."

"So I heard," Ryn said, canting a questioning look toward the other woman.

"Oh, that's Rowena," Sam said. "She's a witch."

"Pleasure," the red-head said cheerfully.

"Ignore her," Sam went on. "Personally, I'd rather have her locked in the dungeon—" he threw her a pointed look, "—but she knows a little more about the Darkness than we do."

Ryn flicked a wary look between them. How bad _had_ things gotten if Sam was willing to work with someone he obviously loathed?

Castiel roved his gaze around the library. "Where's Dean?"

Sam's mouth suddenly tightened. "Um…"

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "What has he done now?" he demanded.

Sam quickly explained about the 'Hand of God' and Dean's trip back in time to retrieve it from a sub that sank back in 1943. If Ryn hadn't already heard a story about the Winchesters time traveling to the 1800s, she might have thought Sam was joking. As it was, the whole thing still sounded ludicrous.

Castiel, however, was practically glaring daggers at Sam by the time the Winchester finished filling them in. "And you let him go? Alone?"

Sam crossed his arms. "Like either one of us could have stopped Dean once he's put his mind to something."

"I've found knocking him out works well enough."

Sam snorted.

A faint glow shimmered in Ryn's peripheral vision, and she turned to find a blood rune on a support column beginning to burn brightly. "Um, is that…?"

She took a step back as the luminescence spread, filling out the entire side of the column in a wide, glaring rectangle. A split second later, Dean came stumbling through, dressed in what appeared to be a sailor's uniform. He staggered to regain his balance, and then gaped stupidly at the lot of them.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, finally moving forward. "You okay?"

The elder Winchester blinked. "Uh, yeah." He glanced at Castiel, mouth quirking in a wan smile. "Hey, Cas." He smiled at Ryn next, and looked ready to say something else, but Rowena piped up impatiently,

"Did you get it?"

Dean started, then glanced down at his hand holding something wrapped in a small cloth. "Y-yeah."

Ryn frowned, noting the small rattle in his voice.

Dean set the item on the table and removed the wrapping. It looked like nothing more than a chunk of rock, pale as paper mache.

"That's a Hand of God?" Ryn said dubiously.

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah. Piece of the Ark of the Covenant."

Castiel was studying it intently, and suddenly reached a hand out.

"Whoa-whoa," Dean protested, but Castiel had already touched it. The angel's shoulders fell.

"Dean," he said, voice full of regret. "I don't know what to tell you…this…there's no power in it. It's just a piece of rock."

Dean's eyes widened. "What? No, I saw it work! Delphine used it when the German ship was attacking."

Sam furrowed his brow. "Delphine? Dean," he sputtered, "how much did you interact down there?"

Dean looked away, but Ryn caught the muscle in his jaw jerking. He ran a hand down his face. "I got caught before I could find this. And then I had to convince Delphine to let me bring it back to the future, by telling them they were all doomed to die and her mission would never be completed." His tone had lowered with bitterness as he spat out the last few words. No one said anything for a long moment.

"Well," Rowena finally broke the tension. "Sounds like this was, in fact, an artifact of great power."

Dean shook his head, then looked at Sam. "The uh, the German ship that sank the Bluefin, what happened to it?"

Sam's eyes swam with sympathy as he took in his brother's haggard expression. "It went down. Unlike the sub, its wreckage was found. It was a giant hole. It ripped through the entire thing. Something must've hit the fuel tanks and exploded, but it burned. Sank."

Dean nodded sagely. "Who'd have thought the Hand of God would turn out to be a one-hitter?" he remarked humorlessly.

Castiel returned his gaze to the piece of worthless rock. "It makes sense, I suppose. These are items that were touched by God, and contain fragments of that power. But they are not sources of it."

"So what now?" Sam asked.

Dean straightened. "Now, I'm gonna go change." He started to move toward the corridor, but stopped as he passed Ryn, and his gaze softened a fraction. "Glad to have you back," he said sincerely.

She reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "You too."

He gave her a half-hearted smile before continuing out of the library. Ryn looked back at the others, taking in their dejected expressions.

Back at square one, it seemed.

* * *

Dean had hoped to make it back to his room so he could collect himself and shake off the horror of what he'd just gone through, but no such luck.

"Dean!"

He paused in the hallway, but didn't turn around as his brother's footsteps jogged to catch up.

"So, how'd you get through today?" Sam asked with a thread of that tone usually reserved for victims, not each other. It made Dean bristle slightly. "I mean, what did you do?" he continued, sounding nothing but patiently inviting, and Dean found himself opening up in spite of himself.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Sam, they…" His voice cracked, and he took a moment to compose himself. "I was just a witness."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Sam asked gently.

Dean gave himself a rough shake and lifted his head. "No. No, story for another day." Right now they had the Darkness slowly devouring the planet and their best shot at stopping it had been a total wash.

"Ryn and Cas look okay," Dean went on, trying to divert the conversation.

Sam nodded in shared relief. "Yeah. I hate to say it, but Rowena came through for us there." He paused. "We'll figure something else out with the Darkness."

"Yeah," Dean agreed halfheartedly. "I'm gonna get cleaned up."

Sam let him go, and Dean took his time in the shower, trying to wash off the clinging odor of brine and fuel. By the time he'd finished and changed back into his own clothes, he'd managed to shove down everything he was feeling about the Bluefin and its crew to the place where he bottled up all of the crap he couldn't do anything about. At least Cas and Ryn were okay. Dean didn't know what he'd do if either of them were still dying.

He made his way back out to the library where their motley group of heroes was spread out across several study tables with their noses in some obscure book or other, even Rowena's. The task seemed insurmountable. Not that Dean was going to call it quits; that wasn't the Winchester way. It wasn't the way of those sailors who had stalwartly stood their ground in the face of certain death. They were heroes. Dean knew he was less often the hero in the stories that could be told about him, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. Even if it killed him.

His phone rang before he could pull up a chair, a raucous blaring that sounded too abrasive in the somber atmosphere of the library. He glanced at the '666' on the screen and braced himself for yet more crap to get heaped on their plate.

"What?" he answered.

"Are you watching the news?" Crowley's annoyingly unaffected voice asked.

Dread filled the pit of Dean's stomach, and he gestured at Sam to open his laptop.

"Is that Charlie?" his brother asked with a frown.

Dean shook his head, silent while Sam pulled up a web browser. Cas probably heard who was on the other end, maybe Ryn, too. Rowena was eyeing him with a chary look.

But he was suddenly distracted by the breaking news story that filled the computer screen. Sam quickly hit the sound button, and a newscaster's voice resounded through the speaker.

"The governor of Illinois has declared a statewide emergency. Experts are baffled by the unusual nature of this storm, which has produced no rains or winds, but has interfered with the power grid across the entire state. The National Guard has been called in to evacuate the surrounding areas."

The others had gotten up to come look, and all of them could do nothing but stare in disbelief at the satellite images showing a black mass blotting out where Illinois was supposed to be.

"Are people even still alive in there?" Dean asked over the phone. The Darkness had killed two people back in Eureka; what if…what if an _entire_ state of people had been wiped out?

"As far as my operatives can tell, most of them are, yes," Crowley replied. "But you can imagine that won't last long."

Dean ran a hand nervously over his mouth. Oh god, this was… They needed to figure something out, _now_. "We're gonna need the Cage box," he said.

Crowley let out a derisive scoff. "That _thing_ is not going to fit anymore, you bloody moron."

Dean ignored the insult, still too dumbstruck by the news images on the computer. "It will if we can weaken it. All we need is a Hand of God, something the Big Man touched that carries some of that power. He was the one who beat back the Darkness originally, so it'll work, as long as no one's used it already. They're only good for one hit," he explained quickly.

"A Hand of God?" Crowley repeated in a thoughtful murmur. "Hm, leave the door unlocked, Squirrel; I'll be over soon."

Dean quirked a brow. "What?"

The line disconnected.

Dean scowled at the phone before tossing it on the table. "I need to go power down the warding for Crowley."

Rowena's brows shot upward. "Beg pardon?" she stammered. "You do remember our deal, don't you? Fergus can't know that I'm here!"

"Why not?" Cas spoke up.

Sam snorted. "Because she double-crossed him."

Dean held up his hands like a referee. "Relax. Crowley knows how to stow his crap and play ball when he needs to." Whatever beef the demon and Rowena had afterward, they could have at it.

Rowena continued to fume at him, but Dean ignored her and went to disable the warding. Sheesh, he couldn't believe the riffraff they were just letting walk into their home nowadays. But, desperate times and all that.

He'd barely walked back into the library when Crowley teleported in, a large walking stick in one hand. Of course, the demon immediately spotted Rowena, eyes rounding and cheeks puffing in vitriolic rage.

"What is this?" Crowley seethed.

"She's back helping us," Dean said.

"Fergus," Rowena began. "I made an error in judgement—"

"You betrayed me!" he spat. "Played me for a fool, after everything I've done for you!"

"Done for me?" Rowena sputtered. "You were always putting the Winchesters before me, your own flesh and blood!"

"You mean the flesh and blood that tried to sell me for three pigs when I was a child?" Crowley shrilled.

Dean's brows rose sharply, and he caught Sam and Cas exchanging uncomfortable glances. And Dean thought he had the family drama.

"I am going to throw you back in that dungeon and flay the flesh off your bones."

Rowena sneered back at Crowley. " _Try it_."

"Shut up, both of you," Dean snapped. "No one's flaying anyone. We have bigger fish to fry, remember?" He nodded to the staff Crowley had gone to the trouble of bringing with him, noting that he'd wrapped a piece of cloth around the section he was touching. "What the hell is that?"

Crowley wrenched his murderous gaze from his mother, rolling his neck and donning a cool air as he lifted the stick and set it on the table. "That, is the Rod of Aaron."

Dean lifted his brows. Which was…?

"Where did you get that?" Cas said sharply.

"Wait," Sam interjected. "The Rod of Aaron, as in…?"

"Created by God on the sixth day and given to Aaron, brother of Moses," Crowley finished. "I knew it was powerful, but had no idea that it was a—"

"Hand of God," Dean uttered. _Well, I'll be damned_. "Cas, does that thing have juice?"

Cas cautiously approached the object and hovered his hand above it, but didn't touch. "Yes," he said. "It still has traces of God's power in it."

Dean couldn't help but break into a grin. _Finally_ , something else was going their way.

"I don't know if it will be enough," Cas went on. Dean wanted to throttle him, because really? Way to think positive.

"How can the power of _God_ not be enough?" he scowled.

"It's only a fragment," Cas replied. His brow furrowed as he thought for a moment. "I suggest I ask the other angels for help."

Sam straightened sharply. "Uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea. Won't they be kinda pissed we busted Metatron out of their prison?"

"Metatron is dead, so they might be willing to forgive that transgression. But just in case, I'll make contact alone."

"Excuse me?" Dean rejoined. "I don't think so."

Cas gave him an exasperated look. "I'm not currently 'on their shit list,' as you'd say. And I certainly have a better chance of convincing them to help if none of you are there." He flicked an apologetic glance at Dean, Sam, and Ryn. "Besides, the Darkness is a threat to Heaven as much as it is to Earth. If we are to succeed, we're going to need as much help as we can get."

Dean worked his jaw. He didn't like it, but Cas had a point. And they were running out of time. The bigger the Darkness got, the harder it would be to beat it down into something that could easily get stuffed in a box.

"Alright," Dean relented. "Reach out to the wings upstairs."

With any luck, Heaven would actually be on their side for once.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel felt a small tremor of trepidation as he approached the portal in the playground. The last time he had been here, he'd had to return a battered and bleeding Metatron after Dean had lost control and beaten the Scribe mercilessly. Any favors Castiel might have called upon after that had dried up at his inability to keep his promise of returning the prisoner unharmed. And then the Winchesters and Ryn had broken _into_ Heaven to free the Scribe.

So, Castiel's rapport with the angels was on precarious ground, but he still believed they could come together for a common cause.

The guard at the sandbox narrowed his gaze at Castiel's approach. "That's far enough, Castiel," he spoke out.

Castiel drew to a stop. "Excuse me?"

"I have orders. You aren't allowed upstairs."

Castiel's heart twinged at the news, though he wasn't entirely surprised. "Please," he said. "You know what's happening on Earth. The Darkness is a threat to us all."

The guard continued to gaze at him blandly. "Hold please."

Castiel furrowed his brow in confusion, but then the portal cracked open, and the guard tipped his head back. An angelic wavelength of light streamed out and through the glowing gateway, only to be replaced by another. The male vessel's eyes glowed blue for an instant, and then he looked up, eyes softening.

"Hello, Castiel."

Castiel relaxed, giving a small smile. "Hannah."

She roved her gaze over him. "You got your grace back."

He shifted his weight. "Yes."

Hannah nodded soberly. "I'm glad. But, Castiel, what the Winchesters did…"

"I know," he interrupted. "I know you're probably angry—"

"They broke into _Heaven_ , Castiel," she said, tone sharpening. " _Mortals_. And they freed the traitor." Hannah shook her head. "That cannot be forgiven."

Castiel stiffened. "Hannah, you wouldn't think of barring them entrance to Heaven?" Sam and Dean were heroes; they _belonged_ in Heaven, not Hell. They deserved peace at the end of the long and arduous road they had traveled. If Heaven refused them…

"And Metatron is dead," Castiel went on. "He is no longer a threat to the angels."

"That wasn't their decision to make," she retorted. "Metatron's sentence was to be imprisoned for eternity."

"They meant well," Castiel pressed. "They were only trying to save me." He couldn't let them be punished for it.

Hannah drew her shoulders back. "And the disturbance in Illinois?" she said coldly. "What are the odds that they were in the middle of that?"

Castiel cringed. He couldn't deny it, but again, they were just trying to save _him_.

"That wasn't their fault, but they are trying to stop it. Hannah, this Darkness has been around since the dawn of creation. God and the archangels beat it back when He created the world. And now it intends to take over again, to drown everything in darkness as it was in the beginning."

Hannah frowned. "How do you know this?"

"I had a brief encounter with it," he replied. "And it was confirmed by someone else who was lucky enough to survive a conversation with the entity."

Hannah shook her head and looked away as though she didn't quite believe him.

"We've obtained a Hand of God," Castiel went on. "But I'm afraid it won't be enough. If the angels will band together for a unified strike, then we might succeed at weakening the Darkness enough to lock it away, forever."

He took a step closer, eyes pleading. "Hannah, I know we've had our differences, and I know the Winchesters have made mistakes in the past. But they are good men and they're trying to do the right thing here, trying to save the world. Please, will you help?"

Hannah's expression was guarded, reluctant, but she wasn't outright telling him no. "Alright, Castiel," she finally said, and he allowed himself a breath of relief.

He nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

Her mien remained sober as she regarded him. "And if the Winchesters succeed in saving the world this time…I will remove the ban on their souls. But," she continued quickly before he could thank her again. "If they interfere with Heaven again, their names _will_ be blotted out of the Book. For eternity."

Castiel stiffened. He wanted to argue, to plead their case…but the fact of the matter was that if they failed to defeat the Darkness, there wouldn't be a Heaven or Hell for any of them to go to when the universe was eventually swallowed up in darkness.

Castiel just hoped that what they had would, in fact, be enough.

* * *

Sam glanced up from his laptop as Dean paced yet another circuit in front of the table. "Dude, would you stop?" His brother had been getting more and more antsy the longer Cas was gone. It was getting distracting.

Dean shot him an incredulous scowl. "I can't just sit here doing nothing, Sam."

"You could help me look for more Hands of God," he suggested pointedly.

Dean just shook his head and resumed his pacing. Sam rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Ryn spoke up from a sofa chair in the corner. "I didn't know that's what you were doing. I'll help."

He sighed, and pushed his laptop away. "No, it's okay. I'm not actually finding any." Most of the things that had been touched by God in biblical times were considered mythical relics, or the pieces that would still contain traces of that power were fragments of the original object, lost or destroyed long ago.

Still, it had given Sam something to do, since he was also worried about Cas approaching the angels. Even if Cas hadn't been involved with freeing Metatron, it wasn't like he hadn't been on Heaven's bad side enough times in the past. Sam was second-guessing letting him go alone.

"If your wee pal Castiel can't convince the other halos to help, you'll have to do better than that, Samuel."

Sam shot Rowena a dark glower. "Aren't you supposed to be packing some heavy power?" he retorted. "Because if not, why should we even keep you around?" He had half a mind to hand Rowena over to Crowley, except the King of Hell had disappeared shortly after Cas left, presumably to get the Cage box again. At least it meant Crowley and Rowena weren't currently going at each other's throats, but Sam was getting very irked at the witch lounging around and drinking tea as if she were at a five-star hotel.

Rowena lifted a haughty chin. "Of course I have significant power, Samuel. The Darkness was only able to grow so quickly due to my helping it."

"Yeah, not a selling point," he rejoined sharply. "Since that makes all this partially your fault."

"Would you both just give it a rest," Dean muttered.

Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms with a huff. _He_ was the one actually trying to be productive while the rest of them were brooding.

Ryn got up and came over to his table. "I'll help," she said softly.

Yet before they could pull the laptops up again, Crowley teleported back into the room, sans Cage box.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean demanded.

"Procuring more firepower," the demon replied blandly, and set an object wrapped in cloth on the table.

"What is that?" Sam asked.

"The Horn of Joshua. Another useful artifact with the power of God tucked inside."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "How do you have all of these?" To think the demon had had access to _God-level_ power this whole time…just fortunately hadn't known it. Sam wondered if Crowley was holding any back for after they defeated the Darkness.

"I'm a shrewd investor," Crowley said, turning away from Sam to narrow his eyes on Rowena darkly.

Sam reached across the table to get a look at this horn, but Ryn shot a hand out to grab his wrist.

"Careful. Once activated, there's no stopping that power's release, and it'll burn up any mortal who tries to use it."

Sam snatched his hand back, giving the cloth-covered lump a wary look.

Dean came over to join them, also eyeing the concealed item. "That's what Delphine said." His mouth tightened. "She used it anyway. If the sub was going down, she wanted to take out the Nazi bastards with them."

Sam's heart clenched in sympathy for what his brother had gone through, what those young sailors had gone through. Dean could probably use a good bottle of liquor to decompress from it all, if they had the time and luxury for that. Which they didn't.

"So who's gonna use these?" Sam asked, turning to Ryn. "You and Cas?"

"That's not dangerous for either of you, is it?" Dean pressed.

Ryn shook her head. "We'll be fine."

Sam caught Crowley staring at them, particularly Ryn.

"You look familiar," the demon mused. His eyes widened a bare fraction. "You were in Ohio, when we set that trap for Cain." Crowley turned his gaze on Dean, narrowing on his arm. "How _did_ you remove the Mark?"

"Not really important right now," Dean scowled.

"Didn't you know, Fergus?" Rowena piped up, sounding delightfully smug at knowing something he didn't. "Ryn here is a phoenix."

Sam gritted his teeth. He might have preferred Crowley not know that, though it was bound to come out eventually.

Crowley turned back to Ryn with an intrigued look. "You Winchesters are keeping interesting company these days."

"One might say the King of Hell and his mother are interesting on their own," Ryn replied.

Crowley gave her another once-over, but before either could decide to say anything more, the sound of the front door grating open echoed from the map room. Sam looked that way expectantly, and a few moments later Cas came in. Some of the tension in the library instantly abated as Ryn and Dean gave the angel looks of relief, which mirrored Sam's own.

"And the verdict?" Dean asked.

"The angels will help," Cas said. "Hannah will meet us on the western side of Illinois where highway 36 becomes highway 72." The lines around his mouth tightened. "Hopefully the Darkness will not have spread that far by the time we can get there."

Sam wished their most hopeful news didn't have to also sound so ominous.

"Then we'd better get going," Dean said. "That's an eight-hour drive."

"We'll have to draw out the Darkness's core," Rowena spoke up. "Its heart, so to speak. A direct strike is the only way an attack will be effective."

Sam shot her a vexed look; she couldn't have mentioned that before? "And how do we do that?"

Rowena shrugged. "It would have to be something big to get its attention, but not enough to tip our hand."

Great, what was gonna catch the 'eye' of a shapeless blob the size of a freakin' state?

"Why don't you just ask it to come out?" Crowley sneered. "Since you and it are so close nowadays."

Rowena turned her nose up at him. "If I called to it, it would _know_ to expect a trap."

"As we all should."

"Not helping," Dean growled.

"I can get its attention," Ryn interjected, drawing every eye in the room.

"What? How?" Sam asked.

"The Darkness wants to eradicate all light on earth…I'll light up my fire and give it a beacon it won't be able to ignore."

"No," Cas said sharply. "That is too dangerous."

"I've fully recovered from the last encounter," Ryn insisted. "And I bet the Darkness will recognize my signature, and want to know how I managed to survive it dousing my spark."

"You barely survived that first confrontation," Cas argued. "We were lucky there was a way to restore your spark this time; if the Darkness devours it again, there won't be a second."

Ryn reached out to gently touch his elbow. "I trust you all to succeed…and if you don't, it won't really matter in the end, will it?"

A muscle in Cas's jaw ticked, but he didn't seem to have a counterargument to that.

"Can you give Cas part of your spark again?" Sam broke in. "As safe-keeping?" Removing it hadn't exactly been pleasant, but Cas had survived the procedure, and would no doubt be willing to go through it again if it helped Ryn.

Cas shook his head regretfully. "My grace was weak enough the first time to accept the spark, but now that it's also recovered, I'm afraid it would just burn Ryn's own flame out."

Sam pressed his mouth into a thin line. Well, crap; he didn't have any other ideas. The Darkness was now too big to be tempted by something like a portable generator as it would have been back in Eureka, Oklahoma. Sam again mentally cursed Rowena's betrayal—and idly wondered if they could lure the Darkness out by offering it her head. It did try to kill her, after all.

Dean cleared his throat. "We'll just have to make sure we don't fail, then," he said. "Ryn's right; if this doesn't work, the world will end."

Saying it out loud cast a dark pall over the room, and Sam swallowed hard. He would have thought that with all their experience averting an apocalypse, more than once, that the task wouldn't seem so impossible. Except this time the end of the world included the end of _everything_. Earth, Heaven, Hell.

And where was God in all this? He may not have cared back during _the_ Apocalypse, but surely he had to know what was going on now. Was he really going to sit back and let all of his creation be thoroughly wiped out? Well, maybe, since he obviously didn't give a crap. Maybe the Darkness was just the excuse he needed to wipe the slate clean.

Sam clenched a fist. It didn't matter, he decided, because they weren't going to let it happen.

Ryn tightened her grip on Cas's arm. "I'm only drawing its attention. Once the core reveals itself, you'll be ready to activate the Hand of God before it can touch me."

Cas still looked hesitant, but then gave her a staunch nod. "I won't be late this time."

Ryn angled a dry look at him, then turned to Crowley. "You'll have to use the second Hand of God."

Crowley had been eyeing her and Cas with intense curiosity, but managed to shift to a blithe air. "Naturally."

"You found another one?" Cas asked.

Ryn pointed to the table, and Cas stepped forward to flip the cloth over, revealing the ram's horn underneath. It didn't _look_ like it contained the power of God, but both Crowley and Cas seemed to think it did, so Sam would put his trust in that.

"Well, then," Crowley said. "I will see you boys at the border." And with that, he vanished.

Sam rolled his eyes. He glanced at the Horn of Joshua, and the Rod of Aaron Crowley had left on the other table. "Cas, you should probably pack those up."

It wasn't until he turned around and spotted Rowena grinning at him that he realized Crowley had also left something else behind.

"Road trip!" Rowena beamed.

Sam exchanged an irked look with his brother.

"Great," Dean muttered.

* * *

They got on the road as quickly as possible, which meant Sam didn't have time to make a certain phone call until all five of them were crammed into the Impala together, which meant no privacy for the conversation he needed to have. But it had to be done.

Dean cast him a knowing look when he pulled his phone out and hit dial. Sam didn't put it on speaker, though.

"Sam!" Charlie answered before the first ring had even finished. "Please tell me you guys have something, because I'm coming up with diddly-squat."

"Uh, yeah, actually," he said, having to pause to clear his throat. "We've got some weapons, and the angels are on board for an attack. I- I think we have a real shot." He might have been trying to convince himself with that more than her.

"That's great! Where should I meet you?"

"No, no," he said quickly. "You don't need to be anywhere near ground zero when this thing goes off."

"Where else would I be?" Charlie squeaked indignantly. "You're my family; I should be there with you!"

Sam's lips tugged upward with a fond smile. "I know, but Dean and I want you somewhere safe for this. Look, Charlie, you've helped us so much already. And we love you. So, please, just find shelter and- and pray this works."

"Don't make me hack your phone's GPS," she rejoined.

Sam shook his head with a sigh. "Charlie…"

Dean gestured for him to hand the phone over, so he did.

Dean pressed it to his ear. "Charlie, listen, if this doesn't work…someone's gotta be left to keep looking for a solution. And if anyone's got a shot at that, it's you, kiddo."

Sam couldn't hear Charlie's side of the conversation anymore, though it seemed as though she might be slowly caving. Dean usually won using that argument, after all.

"We will," Dean said, and then hung up before tossing the phone back at Sam.

Morose silence filled the car after that, at least for a little while. Sam should have figured it wouldn't last.

"Stop looking at me," Cas said.

Sam craned his neck to glance into the backseat where Cas sat with Ryn on one side and Rowena on the other. The angel was currently gazing pointedly back at the witch.

Rowena's lips pressed into a pursed moue. "I'm sorry. You're just fascinating. An angel that rejected Heaven. That's like a fish that wants to fly, or a dog that thinks he's people."

"Hey," Dean lobbed over his shoulder.

"Well, I'm a lot like people," Cas replied sincerely.

Rowena gave him a simpering smirk. "Keep telling yourself that, dear."

Ryn leaned forward to shoot the witch a warning look around Cas, and Sam thought he might have seen a flicker of live fire in the phoenix's eyes.

"Rowena," Sam spoke up before things could escalate. "Be quiet. We can always gag you for the rest of the drive."

"Is that any way to speak to a benevolent benefactor?" she replied in mock umbrage. "Are we not a team?"

"No," Sam and Dean said at the same time.

Rowena huffed and crossed her arms, stewing in silence for a few more minutes before her lilting accent broke the tranquility once again. "You wouldn't think a road-trip with two such strapping lads could be this tedious." She scooted forward in her seat to lean closer. "Shall we have a wee sing-song?"

"No!" Sam and Dean repeated in unison yet again. Honestly, if she didn't shut up, Sam was going to ask Cas to simply shove Rowena out of the moving car.

Rowena heaved a heavy sigh as she leaned back in her seat. "I've only myself to blame," she lamented.

"Yeah, you know what," Sam retorted, "you do."

Dean suddenly reached over to turn on a tape, one of his heavier rock collections. "Fine, you want a sing-along? Sing to this."

A blaring electric guitar filled the cabin, making Rowena reel back like a bat that just had its ears boxed.

"What in god's name is that?" the witch sputtered.

"That, is a classic," Dean replied, and cranked the volume all the way up until even Sam was wincing slightly at the vibrations in his eardrums. But at least it got Rowena to shut up. Or, more accurately, drowned her out.

He flicked an apologetic glance toward Cas and Ryn, who were giving each other squinty looks under the assault of the guitar solo.

It was gonna be a long ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting so close to the big showdown! Also, after getting a few requests, I ended up writing a follow-up chapter for "The Choice" that I'll post Wednesday. ^_^


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much again to everyone who's been reading and commenting on this story. I'm glad you've enjoyed it as much as I have. :) I have one final installment in the Cas & Ryn verse. Hope to see you there!

Dean spent the next seven hours swapping out music tape after music tape. Maybe morose silence would have been more appropriate, given they were probably heading toward their death, but he had zero tolerance left for Rowena, regardless of how helpful she'd been in saving Ryn. Gratitude could only go so far.

They were still fifty miles out when Dean caught his first glimpse of the Darkness. He wasn't even sure what he was seeing at first, assuming the dark sky in the far distance was just clouds. But as the pitch brume filled out more and more, spreading north, south, _and_ vertically far into the stratosphere, it started to look more like a gaping black hole where sky and earth were supposed to be.

Dean hadn't realized he'd eased up on the gas pedal until the Impala juddered slightly with the downshift. He switched the music off.

Sam leaned forward to get a better look out the windshield, but the sheer enormity of the Darkness was almost too immense to comprehend. Dean shared a staggered look with his brother before pressing the gas again and getting back up to speed. They'd meet their fate head on, like always.

Even if it looked as though they were well and truly out of their depth.

No one tried to talk after that, and Dean didn't turn the music back on. The subdued pall that had fallen over them all seemed to dampen even the Impala's usual roar.

It took another hour, another hour with nothing ahead but _nothingness_ , before Dean spotted two figures standing in the middle of the road, only a quarter mile from the edge of the Darkness curtain. Crowley was there, with the Cage box set on the pavement between him and another guy Dean finally recognized as the male vessel he'd last seen Hannah in. The angel was glaring at Crowley with pure vitriol.

Dean slowed the car to a stop and they all climbed out. "Where's the rest of the cavalry?" he asked, sweeping his gaze around the otherwise empty highway. Up ahead, he saw a tree slowly being devoured by the ever-encroaching fog.

Hannah's gaze snapped to Dean, and he pulled up short at the level of venom she seemed to have for him as well. Okay, probably still sore about the Metatron thing. She flicked her gaze to Rowena and Ryn next, eyes narrowing further before she finally turned to Cas.

"Hannah," he greeted, shifting his weight almost nervously.

"This is the company you keep now?" she—he—replied, voice dripping with disdain.

"We need all the help we can get," Cas said, nodding over her shoulder toward their mountainous adversary.

Hannah's mouth pressed into a tight line of displeasure as she briefly glanced behind her. "Very well," she said stiffly. "Every angel in the skies is ready to smite the Darkness in a single, unified blow."

"And you're sure that's gonna pack enough of a punch?" Dean asked.

Hannah's eyes narrowed scathingly on him again. "It did for Sodom and Gomorrah."

He lifted his brows. Oh.

"What's that gonna do to nearby human populations?" Sam put in.

"We're far enough removed at this place," Hannah said. "You, however, need to leave."

"Excuse me?" No way was Dean sitting this out. Even if there was actually very little he and Sam could do.

"I'll be providing a protective shield," Rowena spoke up.

Hannah's nostrils flared slightly at the witch.

"We'll need Sam and Dean to open the Cage box once the Darkness is weakened enough," Cas interjected. "Crowley and I will be using the Hands of God we obtained." He took a deep breath. "Hopefully our combined efforts will be enough."

"Can we get on with it already?" Crowley sniped. "Or would you like to dawdle some more and wait for it to come closer?"

They all half turned to see that the Darkness shroud had inched forward a little more. That one tree had only a single branch left protruding from the inky fog, bare twigs crooked toward the sky as though desperately clawing for something to take hold and rescue it.

Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah, let's do this." He turned to Ryn. "You sure about this?"

She nodded. "You all just have to be ready the moment I get its attention."

"We will be," Dean promised.

Cas moved closer, looking as though he wanted to reach out and hold Ryn back from doing this. But they all knew the stakes. Ryn gave him a sober nod before stepping away.

Dean and Sam took up positions on either end of the crate, behind Rowena. Cas and Crowley retrieved the Hands of God from the Impala, still wrapped in the protective cloths until the right moment, and moved several feet away so no one else would be caught in any backlash from activating the artifacts. Hannah stood off to the far side, presumably poised to call down the righteous smiting of Heaven.

Ryn walked down the road, a lone figure dwarfed by the sheer enormity of the black hole simmering before them. She came to a stop halfway between the edge of nothing and where the rest of them stood waiting.

The spontaneous combustion of fire was so small that Dean didn't notice the sparks at first, not until flames were spurting up from Ryn's feet and climbing up her legs. He grimaced, knowing it was 'natural' for her, but it was still somewhat unnerving to watch.

As the flames snaked up around her waist, Ryn raised her arms out to the sides. With a sudden whoosh, the fire surged up to wreathe around her shoulders, and in the next instant she had been engulfed. The flames glowed hot, almost yellow-white, before shooting high into the sky like a geyser, and Dean could feel the heat buffeting him even at this distance.

A shrill screech split the air, and Dean's eyes rounded as two bands of fire arced up and out in the silhouette of fiery wings.

Dean was so captivated by the display that he almost didn't register how the black fog was beginning to churn and crackle. A roiling column came bursting out less than a minute later, gray flecks like electricity spritzing over its amorphous surface. Dean stiffened as it reared up in front of Ryn, a giant wormhole challenging a dwarf star.

" _Light!_ " its raspy voice spat. " _How? I snuffed you out._ "

The shimmering wings snapped taut with a whiplike crack, and the contours of a bird's elongated neck flickered within the blaze, head arching back as a strident shriek trumpeted in response.

"Crowley, now!"

Dean wrenched his gaze to the side to see Cas rip the protective rag off the Horn of Joshua and close his hand around the object. Crowley transferred the Rod of Aaron to his other hand, and both items began to glow with the same intensity as the inferno raging not too far away. Power suffused down into their hands, and then was coursing up through their veins like molten gold.

Dean clenched his jaw so tightly he was on the verge of cracking a tooth. Cas's eyes radiated with ethereal power, and Dean hoped it wasn't too much for his best friend to handle. He snapped his attention back to Ryn as the Darkness billowed up in preparation to strike, but then Cas and Crowley stretched out their blazing palms, and two beams of light shot outward across the expanse and pierced the crackling cloud.

The Darkness howled and jerked, but seemed to have been skewered in place by the rays. Ryn the human torch banked away from it.

Static fizzled on the air, thrumming deep in Dean's marrow, and he tilted his head back toward the sky, which had begun to twist and churn into a gathering cyclone. A quick glance at Hannah showed she was also looking heavenward…signaling the angels?

Rowena thrust her arms out to the side and began to chant something, hopefully that protective spell she'd mentioned earlier… Dean's ribs were vibrating as the storm of biblical proportions amassed above their heads, and he exchanged a nervous look with his brother.

Cas and Crowley continued to bombard the Darkness with the Hands of God, but Dean could see that the power was gradually leeching out of the objects, turning them to pasty, desiccated remains that looked as though they'd crumble into chaff the second they were drained dry.

The wind picked up, and lightning forked across the sky. When the angels finally struck, it was with such a violent explosion that Dean and Sam staggered backward and almost lost their balance as the massive beam of angelic retribution crashed down on the Darkness's head. It screamed again.

A shockwave burst outward with a force that shook the ground, and Dean's heart seized as fizzling plasma came cascading toward them. Right before it could hit and vaporize them, though, it slammed against an invisible wall, sending purple squiggles up and over a dome that had apparently been erected over them. Good thing they'd kept Rowena around after all.

Dean could still barely breathe, though, and his vision was whiting out from all the energy blazing around them. His skin tingled, and his eardrums rattled as though ready to rupture. He felt Sam's hand blindly grasp at his sleeve and hold on.

"Get ready!" Rowena shouted over the maelstrom.

Dean honestly had no idea whether all this was even working, but he still dropped to the ground next to the crate and grabbed the edge of its lid. _Come on, come on_.

The Hands of God spat out the last of their power, leaving Cas and Crowley suddenly swaying, both of them back to normal. A black tentacle of smoke lashed out toward them, and Dean couldn't even shout a warning. But then a winged ball of fire came dive-bombing out of nowhere and slashed a bladed band across the fog, amputating it. The thrashing appendage jerked back with a squeal.

Dean squinted across the harsh glare of the angel death ray. The heart of the Darkness seemed to be flailing under the relentless assault, and it might have been a trick of his eyes, but Dean thought he saw the expanse of black nothingness in the distance starting to thin.

After a few more moments, the angel smiting cut off like a spigot, and it was another moment before Dean could blink the white spots from his vision. When he did, the Darkness core had been reduced to a six-foot sphere of shadow sputtering on the ground. And the cloud that had blotted out everything for miles was fading away, trickling down to the ground and dissipating like mist. Above, the heavenly storm was also abating.

Rowena sauntered over to the writhing blob, which hissed and burbled at her.

" _You_."

"Aye," she said smugly. "Thought you'd snuffed me out, too, hm?" Rowena craned a look over her shoulder. "Boys, if you would be so kind?"

The Darkness jerked, and Dean could feel its gaze latching onto him as he and Sam flung the lid of the box open.

" _No!_ "

Rowena uttered a Latin phrase, and then the Darkness was being whisked across the ground. It squealed and flailed, but was quickly slurped up over the rim and into the crate without much fuss at all. Dean and Sam slammed the lid down on top of it, then stared at each other incredulously, chests heaving from adrenaline. Had they actually done it?

But the skies were clear as far as the eye could see, and no one had died. Shit, that- that _never_ happened. Dean twisted around to find Cas, but the angel looked to be in one piece after using the Hand of God. A quick survey of Baby showed she hadn't even gotten dinged up in those hurricane-force gales. Dean started to break into a giddy grin, which triggered a tentative one from Sam. They'd won.

"Ryn!" Cas called, and Dean spun around as a giant bird with fiery plumage came gliding down from the sky to alight in the middle of the road. Its wings folded down across its back, and it cocked a ruby-feathered head up at Cas.

"Are you alright?" the angel asked earnestly.

Ryn ruffled a few feathers and bobbed her head once.

Cas furrowed his brow. "Then what's wrong? Can't you change forms?"

Dean's cheeks instantly flushed hot as the situation suddenly rang familiar. "Uh," he said, having to clear his throat. "Clothes, Cas."

Crap, they weren't going to have to drive all the way back to the bunker with Ryn in her bird form, were they?

Cas cocked his head in confusion, but then started quickly shrugging out of his trench coat, which he then held up like a towel while awkwardly averting his eyes.

Dean turned away when he heard the snap and crackle of flames, as did Sam. Crowley angled his head in for a look, and Dean reached out to smack his shoulder. The King of Hell rolled his eyes, but at least in another direction.

There was a small whoof of air, but it wasn't until he heard Ryn's voice that he turned around again.

"Thanks," she said, now wearing Cas's coat like a dress as she cinched the belt securely around her waist. Then she reached both hands up to clasp Cas's face. "Everyone's okay?" she asked, gaze searching his, but also sparing a concerned glance at Dean and Sam as well.

Cas raised a hand to cover one of hers. "I'm alright."

"Yeah, we're good," Dean said, still not quite able to believe it.

"So what do we do with this now?" Sam asked, nodding toward the crate.

"I suggest I store it with its companion piece," Crowley replied. "It'd be a shame to break up the set."

"Fine, whatever," Dean said. Buried in the depths of Hell sounded as good a place as any to him. He threw a glance at Hannah, figuring the angel would protest on principle, but she didn't seem to be paying their discussion any attention, her gaze fixed intently on Cas and Ryn.

Dean waited a beat before clearing his throat loudly. "The angels have a problem throwing the Darkness downstairs with Lucifer?"

Hannah slowly shifted her eyes to him, and there was something carefully blank about her usually expressive mien. "No."

"Okay, then." He gestured to Crowley. "It's all yours." At least they knew they could trust the King of Hell on this matter; they'd all seen that the Darkness was one evil that wouldn't bend to anyone's will.

Cas stepped away from Ryn. "Hannah, thank you. We would not have been able to succeed without your help."

She eyed him coldly in return. "You've changed," she said. "More than I thought."

Cas quirked a brow at her. "I'm still me."

Hannah made a contemplative sound in the back of her throat. "Maybe." With that, she pivoted and began to walk away without another word, leaving Cas gazing after her in confusion.

Dean raised a fist to his mouth to cover a cough. "Dude, I think your ex-girlfriend is jealous."

Cas's brows knitted together. "Hannah and I were never like that."

"I think she'd say differently," Dean pressed with some amusement, and waved a hand at Hannah's figure receding in the distance. "That reads jilted lover all over it."

Cas rolled his eyes in exasperation, and turned back to Ryn in clear dismissal of Dean.

He just smirked, which earned a snort and another eye roll from Sam. But hey, they'd all just saved the world again; he was feeling pretty darn pleased with himself.

Crowley was giving Cas an odd look. "You're always full of surprises, aren't you, Castiel?" He flicked a glance at Ryn. "Congratulations to you two lovebirds. Do send me an invitation to the nuptials."

Cas furrowed his brow. "Oh, we're not…"

"Hey, where's Rowena?" Sam interrupted.

Dean craned his neck around, but there was no sign of the witch. How the heck had she managed to vanish in the middle of nowhere?

"That whore," Crowley swore under his breath. "When I find her…"

Dean tuned him out. That was one family drama he did not need to be in the middle of. Crowley continued grumbling to himself as he strode over to the Cage box and placed a hand on it. In the next instant, they were both gone.

Dean clapped his hands together. "Whaddya say we get some food? We did just save the world; that deserves some pie."

Ryn arched a pointed brow at him.

"Ah, and a change of clothes for Ryn first," he amended. They needed to start packing a go-bag for her if they were gonna keep working cases where she was going to spontaneously combust into a flaming bird.

Dean paused on their way back to the Impala, teasing the idea in his head as he watched Sam take shotgun and Cas and Ryn slide seamlessly into the backseat.

Yeah, it looked good.

* * *

Castiel and Ryn retired to his room that night after Sam and Dean had gone to bed. The elder Winchester had gotten his celebratory pie, and there had been some drinking and revelry, and a 'video chat' with Charlie, at having saved the world…again. But the humans were understandably exhausted after everything, they all were, and they hadn't been home long before both brothers were announcing they were going to 'crash' for the next twelve hours.

Ryn straightened the bed's comforter, it having been left rumpled after she'd recovered from her near brush with death, only to jump right back into the fight again. Castiel took a moment to appreciate that she was here with him now, alive and well. That this amazingly brave, exquisite creature had chosen him in all the world.

She climbed onto the bed and settled back against the headboard, raising her brows at him in invitation. Castiel moved forward and slid onto the mattress next to her, their shoulders bumping. He lifted his arm to drape around her, and Ryn nestled under the crook of his embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. Neither of them said anything for several long moments, just content to breathe each other in.

"Ryn?" Castiel finally said hesitantly.

"Hm?"

"What you did, giving me your spark…"

"I don't regret it, Cas."

"No, I know," he backtracked quickly. "Neither do I. It's just…" He took a deep breath. "I can't give you a piece of my grace. But this vessel…it's as much a part of me now as my true form, and…"

Ryn propped herself up to crane her head back to look at him, brow quirking in question.

Castiel shifted to sit them both up straighter and face each other fully. "And I want you to have all of me, too," he said, echoing her words from what seemed a lifetime ago now. They'd had many lifetimes in the course of their woven orbits.

Ryn's eyes widened, and she reached a hand up to settle over his heart. "Are you sure?" she asked softly.

Castiel met her gaze with unfettered surety and devotion. "Yes. I love you."

Amber irises sparkling, Ryn shifted her hand to his tie, nimble fingers tentatively working at the knot. She took her time loosening it, as though it were a task that required the utmost care. As though _he_ were something treasured to be handled with care.

Ryn slipped the article over his head and let it fall to the floor behind him, then pressed a tender kiss to his mouth. "I love you," she whispered.

Castiel reached for the hem of her shirt, treating her with as much delicate attention as she devoted to him. Because she was cherished. Strong, immortal, and valiant, yes, but also precious.

They fell into each other's arms, drowning in a fire of ardor. One burned hot, the other bright and cold, but tucked away deep in an underground bunker, four silent walls witnessed the fusion of two stars.


End file.
